


Heritage

by Saphira424



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Merlin (TV)
Genre: And the son of Hades, Gen, Greek god au, Merlin is a god, Zeus is a DICK, but he doesn't know it, semi canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 39,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13435065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphira424/pseuds/Saphira424
Summary: In his loneliness, Hades created a son. With dangers lurking in every crevice and enemies that he doesn't know he has, Merlin is sent away to be among mortals, unknowing of who he really is. When new and old enemies alike come to the surface, can destiny's coin survive?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it occurred to me that I've had this posted on ff.net for a long time, but not here, so I've just moved everything over. If there's any issues in order or something weird, please let me know. Migrating 17 chapters was tedious and it wouldn't surprise me if something went wrong during it.

The forbidden process was long, and when it was finally finished, Hades felt miserable. Yet, when he looked down upon the small form before him, he couldn't help but think that it was worth it. Tiny black hairs curled upon the babe's head, crowning his chubby face.

Creating life was a difficult process to begin with, let alone life as powerful as the child he now held. In his own loneliness, Hades knew he would gladly pay the price again if it meant keeping the boy. His boy.

Collapsing from the relief, Hades cradled his creation against his chest. He was no longer alone; he had someone to love him and for him to love back, a child to depend upon him and to trust him. He was going to be a damn good father.

"My lord," One of his castle guards approached cautiously. The man wasn't sure what would unsettle the god this much. "Sire, are you alright?"

"I'm better than alright." When he met the guard's eyes, the man shifted uncomfortably under the emotional gaze of the god. Hades was never cruel, not really, but none would say he wasn't stern. So distracted as he was, he almost missed when Hades spoke again.

"What do you think?" Hades cooed. It was then that he noticed the babe, almost completely covered by the dark cloak around his master's figure. Was this what had his master out of sorts? What a child!

"Whose child, if I may ask?" The slip of the honorific was ignored as the grim lord laughed.

"Mine, he's mine." The poor man could only stare in shock. Finally gathering his wits, he ventured further.

"Forgive me, but I don't understand. How is this possible?" Hades scoffed, and he though he heard him mutter something that sounded like 'hell if I need to explain that'. He took the following silence as his answer.

"And his name, sire?"

"Merlin."

The next several weeks were filled with coos and gurgling. The child was strange, and so very unlike humans. He needed no steady nourishment, cried very little, and was growing quicker than average.

Philip, for that was the guard's name given in death, found himself moved from his position in the council room to the privilege of guarding the princeling. Barely a month old, and already the tiny bundle worked his way into the souls of many. Hades himself was in better spirits than any had ever seen him.

Weathered lines from serval millennia of stress and loneliness seemed to melt away when the immortal looked upon his son. Philip never realized how blue his lord's eyes were until he saw them mirrored in the child's gaze.

No one was surprised that little Merlin looked exactly like his father. Philip had known that it was not a conventional birth, though he didn't exactly share it with his peers. How unusual the little prince was was not wasted on him. There was no mother, no womb. The child had only one parent.

Merlin was no mere demigod.

It seemed that other were beginning to make that connection. Some regarded the prince with outright fear, others with adoration. Philip just wondered what would happen once the other gods found about this. It was no doubt forbidden, else there would be thousands of immortals. It would be used to gain political and physical power over each other.

Yet when Hades looked upon his son, it wasn't with lust for power or gain, it was a pure look: soft in nature and with a certain gentleness that spoke volumes of intimacy and love.

It was in these moments than Philip felt like an intruder. It was easy to forget that this wasn't any mortal man, not a dead man walking the halls in the dead palace of the dead god. No, this was the dead god himself. He wondered if Hades too forgot in these moments.

After another month passed, Hades brought his son with him to sit on his lap as he judged the souls of the dead. The affair became so casual with just that one addition, and souls coming through were much more relaxed due to it. Merlin loved to grab his father's hand and put it in his mouth, which he was currently occupied doing.

There was a young woman being judged, in the loosest meaning of the word.

"You're a spirited and audacious young lady, and one with a sense of self-righteousness at that. You died at age 21 when you were caught stealing and immediately ran through by the landowner. Why were you stealing?" Hades knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"My son was starving, I needed to feed him and I had no money after taxes. Is he alright? Do you know what’s happening to him now that I'm gone?" Her long hair stuck to her face, following the flow of tears, now dried and cracked against her face.

"He died." She fell on her knees and wept. Looking down upon his own child, he knew that there was little he wouldn't do for him. The woman had done very little other than try to keep her and her son alive. The father had abandoned her, that he knew, but she was so determined for her son's life to care for her own troubles. Spirited indeed.

"My lord!" A guard called out to him as he ran into the room, thoroughly breaking through Hades' musing.

"Speak."

"Your brother comes-"

"Which one?" Hades didn't remember standing up.

"Poseidon, my lord. He seeks audience with you."

Hades looked upon the woman, then at the door, his plan decided.

"Stand, you will serve my household like the men you see around you. Your name will be Hunith. Take the child and any one of the guards to guide you. Hide him, and keep him quiet." Then Hades relinquished his tight grip on the prince and handed him to Hunith. She adjusted the child, then ran, grabbing the wrist of the closest guard and practically dragging him along with her.

Hades set his shoulders and sat back down on his throne, regal and very angry. When the door opened, Poseidon strutted in.

His wavy, sandy brown hair fell to his shoulders, and blue green eyes seemed to light up and sparkle like ocean waves. As he walked, the cloak around his broad shoulders waved, it's moving pattern like water over sand. He had an attractive face, strong and thin, and he was lean, yet muscular enough.

Hades hated him.

"To what do I owe this... pleasure, Lord Poseidon?" Hades drawled.

"Zeus wanted to check up on you."

"How kind of our dear brother to worry for me." The sarcasm dripped like honey, sweet and sticky and sickening. Poseidon had the decency to shift uncomfortably.

"He felt a dip in your presence, felt your sudden weakness."

"Ah, and therein lays the true reason. Either Zeus is testing whether I am weak enough for him to overpower, or he fears for what could weaken a god so quickly. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

"What did weaken you?"

"None of your concern, and you can tell Zeus he can shove his worry up his-" Crying, loud and childish, reached his ears.

"Is that a babe's cry?"

"Just a young soul-"

"Brother." Poseidon sighed knowingly, with a tiny, sad smile, and for a moment Hades almost wanted to laugh, wanted to forget the thousand lifetimes of rivalry and betrayal. He couldn't forget who was really here, though.

"Run back to Zeus, brother."

"I want to know-"

"Zeus. Zeus wants to know. For the lord over the great, untamable sea, you bind yourself so easily to the will of that selfish prat. I will say this once again, leave me." Poseidon had nothing to say to the bitter words spat at him

"As you wish, but I'm no fool. That child is yours, but it's power is not mortal." With those terrible words spoken, Poseidon left, a speechless Hades in his wake.

Hunith, in the meanwhile, had started out running as fast as she could, the babe bouncing along with her. Soon, however, she realized she couldn't keep that pace and she had no idea where she was going.

"Sir," Hunith turned to the man she dragged along.

"Call me Balinor." His deep voice caused her to double take. He was quite attractive, but Hunith had a mission now. She could think about men another time.

"Balinor, where am I to hide? Where's the best place?" The young man rubbed his face, contemplating.

"There are plenty of unoccupied rooms in this wing, and I doubt any one is better than its neighbor. I suggest going further and making a right turn, that'll bring us to a more obscure area."

"If it’s so obscure, how do you know of it?" Balinor faltered under her heated gaze. It wasn't angry, nor flirtatious, just challenging and curious. She smiled after a couple of seconds, and darted off again. The young guard now knew what his lord meant by having audacity. What a strange woman!

After making the right turn like Balinor had suggested, Hunith hid in one of the rooms. It was dank, and there were webs strung across the ceiling and walls. Dust covered every surface, and the only light streamed in through the open door.

Balinor, knowing what to expect, lit his torch off of one in the hall. When he entered, he closed the door behind them, sealing them in. Hunith met his eyes and shivered; it was quite cold, despite it being hell. She almost laughed at that thought.

She used her foot to brush some of the dust away, then sat down, her modest dress rumpling around her legs. Balinor sat across from her, the torch in between them. One of the webs draped across her shoulder and she shrugged it off annoyed.

"Why are there spiders living here?"

"They don't. Nothing lives here because nothing here is alive." Balinor's straight face threatened to waver, and Hunith smiled warmly.

"Whose child is this?" Hunith whispered.

"Hades'," Balinor answered, "Though, Merlin is not only a god's son, but he is a god himself."

Hunith realized the implications, and instantly froze.

"And Hades trusts me with his own son?" She hissed out in disbelief.

"It was that, or trust that Poseidon wouldn't say anything." Balinor retaliated, "I know who I would choose."

Feeling the nervousness between the two young adults, Merlin began to whine. Hunith immediately switched her attention to him, but the noise grew in volume until he was screaming. Tears streaked down the prince's face, and no bouncing or shushing from the poor woman could calm him down.

"Let me," Balinor beckoned for her to hand Merlin over, and she reluctantly did. With Balinor's help, they both finally got the babe to calm down, but the damage was already done.

"They would've heard that in the throne room." How right he was.

An hour later, Hades tracked them down and took his son back from the couple.

"My lord," Hunith began pleading, "I tried to calm him, we tried, but he would not-"

"Peace, I understand. What's done is done, and for as quickly as Poseidon guessed, I wonder if he did not already know."

"What will you do, sire?" Balinor ventured to ask.

"I must hide him, permanently. Zeus will no doubt seek to destroy him, and who would fight with me? Brother will side with him despite morality. Athena will side with her father, and the most hated? I will have no allies in this." Hades sarcastically intoned. "No, the child will be sent away, to live among mortals. Poseidon could sense him, so his powers must be bound."

"Can you bind a god's power?" Hunith questioned.

"Not fully, the boy would still be more powerful than any mortal, but that power could be expressed in any way. Mortal men can still use magic, correct? That ability was gifted to them by Persephone, and perhaps he could go unnoticed. Tell me, Hunith, if you've ever seen a sorcerer do magic, what outs them?"

"A magic user's eyes flash gold when they utter spells, my lord."

"Then so shall Merlin's."

"Why have you told us all this, is it not dangerous for more people to know?" But Hades did not answer.

It took several days to bind Merlin's godliness, for Hades decided it was better for Merlin, and easier for himself, to do it slowly and little by little. Yet, with each passing day, his anxiety grew. It was only a matter of time before Zeus stormed in, demanding that Merlin be handed over.

Finally, he finished with the last alteration. Any time Merlin would release the little power left free, his eyes would glow golden.

"Hunith, Balinor, I have need of you both."

Over the past days, Hades had noticed that they seemed to gravitate towards each other. He was no fool, after all.

"Merlin's binding is done, and he is ready to be hidden. Can I trust the both of you to take care of him?"

"We're going to live as mortals again?" Hunith's eyes shine with surprise. Balinor, on the other hand, had suspected it. He didn't blame her for her excitement, however. She was only a few weeks dead.

"Yes, you will claim to be his parents. Balinor, I trust you to protect both of them. While Merlin will not die, he can be harmed, and worst of all, noticed. I give you my gift to humanity: you have dominion over dragons, a dragonlord you will be called."

"Dragons, sire? I wasn't aware they were your creation."

"They are, with flames as hot as the deepest of pits here, and scales impenetrable, they are mine. Merlin will gain this power in your death, to continue the ruse should anyone question it. If you were to sire a son," Hunith blushed, and even Balinor turned his face away, unable to meet the eyes of his master. "Oh for- I'm not fool. The first son you sire will also have this power, so be careful."

Hades turned and handed Hunith a stack of blank parchment.

"You can write to me with this, to tell me of my son's wellbeing. Just burn them away from prying eyes and they will reach me. If either of you are suspected, or Merlin noticed, do not attempt to contact me immediately. Move, run away if you must, and hide as best as you can. Merlin has a natural shroud over him, a power to be passed over unnoticed. Use it to your advantage, but don't rely on it."

When Hades held Merlin for the last time, the couple adverted their eyes. Father and son stared at each other, blue on blue. One was full of pain and anger, the other warm and innocent. Placing a kiss up on his brow, Hades handed his only son to Balinor. The finality if the action expressed all they needed to know.

"Goodbye, my Merlin."

 


	2. Chapter 2

There was a package for them at the exit. Hunith knelt, and in it found enough ambrosia for Merlin to drink until he could stomach solid food, seeing as he would now feel hunger as any mortal. There were also a couple of quills and ink wells, obviously for Hunith to write the letters with. Peasant clothes for all three of them were packed neatly around all of it.

The package was going to be very useful, no doubt, yet the two found no comfort in it. They would not be back for a long time.

The light streamed in through the gaps in the leaves, the forest swaying with the cool spring breeze. Hunith and Balinor stood at the tree line, Merlin cradled against Balinor's side. They had decided that the small village, Ealdor, which they now overlooked, was where they were going to settle. It was on the border of Camelot, but isolated enough that if they needed to suddenly leave, they could escape quickly and not worry about being followed.

Balinor got to work immediately, building them a humble home, and in the meantime, they stayed with their future neighbor. The woman had given birth two months before Merlin had been created. When Marianne had seen that Merlin was close to her son's age, she immediately agreed to help them out.

"Will is going to need a friend to play with," She had told Hunith, "and surely your Merlin will as well."

That last evening, Balinor was finishing up the house. Hunith sat with Merlin on her lap next to Marianne who did the same with Will.

"Where is Will's father?" Hunith asked with great caution, knowing firsthand what answers she could receive.

"He's a warrior," She proclaimed proudly, "Cenred's army, mind you, but still, he's a fighter nonetheless."

Hunith smiled at Mary's pride in her husband, a feeling she knew well. While she might not be married to Balinor, they loved each other too much to care.

"I'm happy for you."

"Not as happy for me as you are for yourself. Your Balinor there might not be in an army, but I'd bet anything he's fought. He has the muscle and the scars for it. Look at him, building you a home. Not all men are that honorable, especially not around here. Everyone loves themselves far too much to love another." There was a tone of sadness there.

"You didn't want him to go."

"No, I didn't."

Their house was modest, but homely, and Hunith fell in love with it very quickly. Balinor used his woodworking skills to carve furniture; tables, shelves, a bed, and a cradle now served their small family. He happily exchanged his services for food and other necessities, while Hunith used her literacy to teach the older children. Others began warming up to the strange new couple; it didn't take long for them to settle into a easy life.

Hunith had wrote to her brother, Gaius, and now awaited an answer. Her older brother was working as Camelot's court physician, and was very adept at healing with not only herbs, but magic as well. She wondered if she could trust him with Merlin's secret, but no. That decision was already made. She was never to mention it, not even with Balinor. They never knew who was listening. The rain, the trees, the thunder in the sky, all could hide ears of the enemy.

"Hunith, there's a letter for you." The courier had stopped her on the way back to her home. "It's from your brother."

She ran home, a smile on her face.

"My love, what is it?" Balinor couldn't help but smile as she bounded in, practically jumping up and down.

"My brother, he works in Camelot as the physician - I told you of him! He wrote back, he said that he would be happy to help support us if we needed it, but he also said that you could find work in Camelot, if you want. I told him of your dragonlord abilities, and he remarked on how rare and remarkable that was. He said he was curious about Merlin, as well." It was simple things, fairly generic and expected, but Hunith hadn't been able to speak with her brother since they parted many years ago. She couldn't afford the parchment, let alone the fee the courier demanded.

"That's wonderful! Do you think it wise to tell him about Merlin, though?"

"Gaius knew I was pregnant when we parted, but not who the father was. By the time he ever sees Merlin, the age difference will hopefully go unnoticed. If he ever asks, we can always pass it off as being due to malnourishment or starvation." Balinor immediately felt terrible, remembering that her true son had probably died for the same reason. He accepted her logic, though, and argued no further on the issue.

Hunith wrote to Hades weekly, not eager to waste any of the special paper. She told him of how his son grew, how he gurgled and cooed and sang, rarely crying even in a mortal form. He was a pleasant boy, and she made sure to express that. She described him often, his dark curls and his blue eyes; she told how his face, though round now, showed signs of thinning out, how he sometimes showed dimples when he smiled.

When Hades read the messages, he would smile, cry, laugh, thrown into the violent torrent of emotions he now only associated with his son. It was joy, tainted with agony and a speck of paranoia that had lodged itself in the immortal's mind since Poseidon entered his halls those few months ago. He feared the day when the letters stopped coming and Zeus came to laugh at his misfortune.

When Uther started the purge, Hunith wept for several days in fear for her brother's life. Pyres were built in the middle of the courtyard, or so they were told, and masses of people burned each day. Any sign of Persephone's gift, and the entire family was put to death. Hunith regretted Hades masking Merlin's powers as magic, but one cannot guess the next evils of man.

All it took was one letter to turn her world around.

At first, she sighed with great relief, tears of joy falling unashamedly. Gaius lived! Then she truly read the letter from her brother, and tears of terror fell.

The king wanted to make peace with the Great Dragon, wanted the dragonlords to come to him. He wanted Balinor and his kin to call the last dragon down, and Hunith knew that no matter how much she insisted, her noble fool of a man would go. The man she loved would walk right into the trap if there was a chance that Uther was truly sorry. Hunith wept for him, for her Balinor.

"I must go." Balinor insisted, trying to calm his love down. Hunith would not have it.

"What about Merlin? What will become of him?"

"If all goes well, nothing."

"Nothing ever goes well." Yet Balinor would not be persuaded. With a small smile curving up the side of his face, he leant closer.

"I am not afraid of death." She never understood how he could make a joke during times like these, but she was thankful for the skill.

When Hunith heard of the execution of the dragonlords and the chaining of the Great Dragon, she had no more tears to cry.

It was the only time she received a letter back from the underworld. She had told Hades of Balinor's death, and suddenly out of her fire flew a letter on parchment not unlike what she wrote upon.

All it said was that Balinor was not present at his usual post, and therefore must either not be dead after all, or shirking in his duties. It was snarky, it was condescending, and it was very Hades-like, but it gave Hunith a sense of peace and a smile of relief.

Merlin had always had an aura of wiry power like his father, but when the six-month old babe began moving objects around, Hunith realized how difficult it was going to be to hide him. It wasn't hard to define the child as different, but all it would take was one person to make the connection to magic, and Merlin would be sold to Camelot.

It was getting harder and harder for her to remember that Merlin was not her child. As each month passed, the boy only kept growing. When he spoke his first word, Hunith wasn't sure why she was crying.

"Mama...ma...ma." She held him as he gurgled out the words, slowly running her fingers through his black hair.

It wasn't unnoticed that Balinor had left and never returned. Once the winter came, Hunith would sometimes take Merlin to Mary's and watch the boys play together. It took a while for anyone to say anything to her face, but Mary soon found the courage.

"I'm sorry, about your husband. Perhaps I was wrong in calling him honorable so quickly."

"No. No, he left to protect me! To protect Merlin!" Hunith spat the words out just out of hearing for the rowdy children. Mary recoiled from her friend, her comforting hand frozen above Hunith's.

"I didn't mean to offend." Hunith calmed herself. It hadn't been right for her to snap at Mary like that, but then again, Mary still had a husband.

"I know, Mary. I'm sorry."

When Mary's husband died for Cenred, it was her turn to run to Hunith. Will was old enough now to understand that his father was never coming home. When Mary pleaded before the roguish king for help, she was denied any.

From then on, Will grew angry at the world. Hunith would worry for the influence he was having on Merlin, but it seemed it was the other way around. Merlin's kind heart could never be swayed so easily. For the son of the most hated god, Merlin was a cheerful soul. She wondered if Hades would've turned out the same way, had circumstances been more favorable to him.

Merlin learned from a young age what 'bastard' meant. He also understood what happened to sorcerers and their families. He was special, or so his mother told him, yet when he heard people whisper 'monster', it didn't matter how often his mother told him otherwise; there was always that part of him that agreed.

Hunith tried her best to teach Merlin that he was good, yet had to drill into him the need to hide as well. The people relentlessly spread rumors about her and her surrogate son. As long as they never acted upon the insults, as long as Camelot didn't hear of the sorcerer boy, Hunith was content to ignore them.

It wasn't like Merlin ever used magic when others could see. As far as they knew, it really was just a baseless insult. Hunith was perfectly content to leave it like that.

It was pure coincidence that Will found out when he did. The young man really accepted Merlin for who he was, and Hunith was sure he would never betray him, but poor William was not why she sent Merlin to Gaius. Insults began shifting in nature, and his true secret was in danger of being noticed.

Hunith didn't know if the gods listened to the prayers lifted to them, but she found herself hearing mutters of "Zeus strike him down" or "May he drown in Poseidon's waters." While she didn't believe that Zeus would send his lightening down, or that Poseidon would call his waters to carry Merlin away, she feared for him nonetheless. If any of the gods even glanced at Merlin, he could be recognized. He was too similar to Hades, too different to go unnoticed. Hunith was surprised that he had lasted this long.

"Mother, Will won't tell anyone, I swear! He's my friend." The look on her poor boy's face almost brought her to tears, but how else was she to justify her next actions.

"We can't take any chances."

"Why, because I'm a monster?" The words were desperate, but they did their damage well.

"Merlin, you know I don't think that. You know that's not true, but if Will has found out, how long before another? You need to learn how to control it better."

"And where do I do that?" Her son's voice broke, and Hunith was blasted back several years to a different god, broken and desperate for another way. It unsettled her.

"My brother, he's the court physician in Camelot. He knows more about magic than anyone else I know." Watching the fear cross her poor boy's face, a realization hit her. Merlin was growing up faster than she had thought. He was a young man now, tall and thin. His face had lost it's roundness years ago, replaced with a gaunt, highborn look. It was a rare moment, a true sense of crushing reality. This was not her son.

He truly was a younger Hades.

"Camelot." He didn't need to say more than that. The short word rang with grim finality. Even fear could not push past the great resignation upon his face. Merlin turned and left, unable to argue any longer. He had a friend to say goodbye to.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Kilgharrah sensed the boy immediately. His magic called out, singing into every inch if the earth around him. The dragon wasn't sure why he was so special, not right away, but he kept his senses open to the sorcerer. As more time passed, Kilgharrah was sure that there was something different about the young man's powers. It called out to him like none other did, melding with his own like nothing Persephone could ever devise. He was a servant of Hades, like Kilgharrah himself. He was kin.

Destiny was a strange force, weaved into the fabric of mortals and immortals alike. Some could foresee, but few could understand a strand in Fate's thread, let alone the full design. Dragons were beings granted with understanding of many things, in comparison to others at least, yet even they faltered in full comprehension. Fortunately, it didn't take much insight to learn the boy's name.

"Merlin," He called out, his power brushing that of the warlock's, "Merlin."

When the young man finally stepped out before him, Kilgharrah thought he'd made a very foolish mistake. If it wasn't for the hideous scarf like cloth around his neck, the Great Dragon would've bowed; Hades would never lower himself to wear such a garment! At the same time, however, Merlin looked strikingly like his master, so much so that the dragon could only come to one conclusion.

Yet would not Hades have told his creations? Kilgharrah had no great pride in his status, for he was still mortal and now chained, but surely Hades would want a being such as his son celebrated amongst all. Probing further, he found stores of power locked away, amounts of which he couldn't fully fathom. So this was why the boy was a secret; he unconsciously backed up, puffing out his chest and arching away from the godling. If Kilgharrah knew one thing, it was that messing with the gods only brought trouble; he wouldn't mention anything to the lad if he could help it.

Destiny fully knew who she chose to be named Emrys, no matter how wary the Great Dragon was of his master's son. Regardless of his caution, it was time for Merlin to hear of his calling with the Once and Future King. After moving past his initial wariness, the dragon found the whole situation quite amusing as he heard the vehemence in the 'warlock's' voice. Hades' son indeed!

Kilgharrah couldn't stay any longer without laughing his hide off. Raising his wings, he pumped them down hard, taking him up. Only then did he let the stoic mask fall. Merlin would be back.

The moment Merlin killed Nimueh was the first time he bathed in his powers. Darkness clouded his emotions, pulling him deeper and deeper into the bliss. Her life force was his to command, and he willed his mentor back to him, pulling his soul back to where it belonged. Merlin felt the darkness fall around him like a blanket, warm and soft and safe. It was as though he was death itself, choosing who lived and who died, righteously ruling over all life. If he fell any farther, he imagined he could see himself on a throne.

It was only the drops of rain that brought him back out of the blackness, hitting against his skin like spikes of ice. For a split second, he was furious; what dare pull him from the beckoning darkness? As soon as his vision focused, he ran to Gaius. He could not fully shake off the effects of Nimueh's death, couldn't forget the safeness of the endless night. He knew he would forever fear that monster lurking beneath his skin, dragging him down, down, down.

It was the monster he almost became, the silent threat, that no one could ever understand. What could he say to Gaius? There were no words to adequately describe what happened. The most disturbing thing was not that he killed Nimueh, but rather that he enjoyed it so much. Even looking back, he didn't regret it.

Even the rain did not ignore the scene it fell upon. The lord of the waters saw the impossible, the young boy so like his father, bringing a dead man to life, for he commanded not life to enter him, but rather death to not take him.

Poseidon did not neglect to tell Zeus of the boy those several years ago, though he did mislead him. Gods father bastards all the time, and Zeus merely laughed at the notion of Hades siring one. Poseidon felt he had done what he needed to, he just 'forgot' to mention that this was no demigod bastard. Zeus would desire any of his brother's children dead no matter the circumstances, but was less likely to act upon a simple stray. What threat were they, after all?

Yet watching his nephew, the mighty god wondered if he was wrong in not disposing of the babe when he had a chance. Even bound as he was, the fledgling god was powerful, though going by his expression, quite unsettled by the fact. The power he had commanded in those few minutes seemed out of place in the lanky boy, though so did Hades'. It was a miracle that his nephew hadn't lost himself; he supposed that his rain had done its job.

The god of the seas could only fool himself so much, but he hadn't reached that point yet. He had brought the lad back from that dangerous ledge because the last thing the gods needed to deal with was a crazy immortal. He did it out of selfishness, not pity, and surely not out of love.

At least, Poseidon was content to pretend so for now.

Hades wanted to scream. How could anyone be so stupid, so reckless? The pathetic witch tore open the veil, letting his more hateful people run rampant upon the earth they all resented. Poor Cailleach was panicking, running in circles trying to stop them from leaving. Oh how she hated being alone, watching those whom she was meant to help willingly leave her.

It was part of the reason the veil required a sacrifice for both opening and closing the tear between the realms. If Cailleach was going to be alone for an extended period of time, she demanded more souls to keep her company. Hades had agreed to this, knowing the pain of loneliness himself.

The mortal witch was becoming dangerous in her own way, and Hades could no longer ignore this fact. She carved a path of destruction everywhere she went with no sense of the true harm she was doing, whether to the balance, or to herself. In her quest for the petty human throne, she would forsake her own sanity. Hades would have to keep an eye on this one.

Though, he wouldn't act upon it directly, not unless he had to; it wasn't his job to clean up every one of the mortals' messes.

The dorocha sent chills up Merlin's spine, their screams haunting him deep into the night. The warlock knew he was being paranoid, but it felt as though they had marked him as their target. Every scream was a vengeful roar against him, every breeze coming to take him away. When he felt his magic falter in their presence, it was enough to make him fall apart. What use was he to Arthur if he couldn't face this?

Yet his fear of them was nothing in comparison to his loyalty to his true king, and for his king he would accept their embrace.

"Merlin!" Arthur screamed, but his friend could no longer hear him. The cold consumed him, and he was plunged into darkness.

When Hades felt his son's life falter, he collapsed. It was if someone had torn his legs out from under him, the pain rushing forward to embrace him. Frantic, he sent out his power, searching for the remains of his son's presence. When he found him, Hades breathed in relief, for his soul was intact.

Of course, the dorocha could harm his son no more than they could harm him, but for a moment Hades was not a god with rational thought and incomprehensible knowledge. He was a father worried for his son.

The danger had not completely passed, however, as Merlin could not access the power to fight them off. He would not die, but the dorocha had pulled him from his mortal body. Without guidance, Merlin would never be able to find his way back.

There was a way for Hades to talk to him, to explain to him what he needed to do, but was a connection he dared not try if he wanted Merlin to remain hidden. Yet, why would he protect his son from his family, only to let him suffer at the hands of other forces? Reaching out again, he made the connection.

The young man was lost in the hazy gray of the void. Shapes circled him, lightly brushing up against the edges of his vision. He couldn't feel anything. There was a roaring in his ears, annoying and impossibly loud, yet he could do nothing. He felt like nothing.

"Merlin." His name, somehow spoken, broke the bindings around him. The shapes dissipated, and Merlin identified them as the dorocha. While he was suspended in air, he was able to move; the action seemed to be controlled more from this own thought than any physical action. Did he even have a body anymore?

When Merlin righted himself and turned to face whomever called his name, he was rendered speechless.

"Hello, my son." Hades swallowed emotionally, averting his eyes from the deep blue that pierced him as acutely as they had many years ago.

"Balinor was my father." Even as the words left Merlin's mouth, he knew them now not to be true. Here, in the unworldly domain, Merlin felt truth permeate him. "No. No, I don't understand. If you are my father, than Balinor..."

"Balinor was one of my household guards, Hunith, as you can guess, is not your mother. She was a servant, charged with protecting you." Hades could see something break inside his son, but it was necessary; where else do beautiful things grow, if not in the fertile ashes of destruction?

"Why send me away?"

"You were in danger. Merlin, please, I beg of you, believe me. If I could have kept you, raised you as the son you deserved to be treated as, I would've! I would've sacrificed anything to do so, but I would not endanger you. Never could I be so selfish."

"You would rather me live a bastard than die a son."

"You aren't a bastard, Merlin, you never were. I claimed you as mine the day you were born." The following silence was awkward, as neither knew what to say to comfort the other.

"Where are we?"

"We're in the void between the worlds of the living and the dead. The dorocha, spirits cursed to remain here, pulled you from your body."

"How are you here, then? How do you even know this?" Merlin realized he knew nothing of his father; even his name eluded him. "Who are you?"

Hades smiled sadly.

"It's better if you don't know."

"For me, or for you?" The words were harsh, but Merlin couldn't bring himself to care. He wouldn't be abandoned, not now; the truth was too close to not pursue.

"For both of us. I'm not-" Hades paused. What could he say to his son to explain? "I'm not someone many would be proud to have has their father. I'm the reason you're in danger every second of your life, the reason why you will always be hunted. As long as you don't know who I am and, by extension, who you are, you might stay hidden for a while longer. Even now, this connection I've forged is in danger of being noticed. We need to get you back into your body."

Merlin shut down, prepared for what was ahead. His father was dangerous and secretive, not unlike Merlin himself if he was honest; there was nothing he could do to change that. The warlock donned his emotionless mask, and coldly stared down his father.

"What do I need to do?"

If you had asked Merlin what had happened next, he would not remember. He wouldn't remember his father's calm voice guiding him back to his body, wouldn't remember returning to the mortal realm. All he knew was that one moment, he was shrouded in the gray world, and the next he was freezing.

Poseidon had felt Hades' connection with the boy as soon as it had been forged. He had been keeping tabs on Merlin's whereabouts, but when he felt his brother's presence, his full attention snapped to Merlin.

The young man was dying.

Well, not quite. Hades' son was no less immortal than any of them, but his soul was slipping from the mortal realm, thanks to the dorocha. He would be lost between the worlds, carried by the spirits there for eternity as his body stayed comatose, his power lost with him. For a moment, Poseidon thought that it was for the best, that it would save his nephew from the inevitable destruction that lay ahead of him.

He should have known his brother was foolish enough to save him. Merlin wouldn't die now, his spirit safely back in its safe confinement, but it would be a while before he was fully recovered from the attack. In a moment of empathy for his nephew, Poseidon commanded his vilia to heal him, an act he hoped his brother overlooked.

Hades hadn't.

"Why did you save him?" His brother stood in his hall, tall and awkward, demanding answers to questions Poseidon tried to ignore.

"I have no answer for you, Hades. Go home."

"No, no I can't, not without knowing why. You know where he is, but how long will you hold your tongue?"

"As long as he's not a threat."

"To whom? Zeus's ego?" Hades was becoming irrational in his worry.

"I'm not our brother! I won't kill him just because he's your child, but if he threatens the balance of power-"

"What balance is there when one being controls all?"

"An imaginary one that your boy might shatter, if he's not careful. We can't afford that! You know the measures Zeus would take to ensure that he remains the one on that throne. Not all of us can oppose him so blatantly and get away unscathed."

"None of you ever try." Hades walked a thin line, now that his brother held the fate of his son. If he pushed him too far, Merlin would suffer for it.

"Please, Hades, just go. Your son is safe, isn't that what you want? You know my conditions; all you have to do is keep your son in line." Hades hated being at the mercy of his brothers, but there was nothing else he could do.

With a billow of his black cloak, he sauntered from Poseidon's throne room, sulking back to his dreary realm. Hades wondered if he was always destined to be angry and dark, or if the underworld shaped him into the grim leader it needed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin knew that nothing had really changed, but everything felt different nonetheless. He had no idea who he was anymore. There was no way to find out, either, as asking questions apparently would lead to his inevitable death.

Merlin remembered the ever present darkness and shuddered. Was he truly born a monster, that his very existence begot enemies? Yet, there was little he could do now. The young man was determined to ignore it, lest it drive him mad.

Months passed into years, and while Merlin never forgot, he didn't dwell on it. Finally, it seemed there was lasting peace, at least for some time. Morgana hadn't been spotted in over a year and all was quiet, peace spreading throughout the kingdom. Even the mild weather of that spring seemed to reflect the collective feelings of all the people.

"Merlin!" Well, not everything was perfect, far from it in fact, but the warlock was content dodging stray goblets. Seeing Arthur upon the throne filled the loyal servant with great satisfaction. There was little that could dim such contentedness, including blows to the head from the prat.

He dashed out of the room before Arthur could give him more chores, sliding up against the wall to avoid a rumpled looking servant. The poor young man stopped, however, and greeted Merlin breathlessly.

"Do you know where I can find...?" He trailed off, his face contorting in frustration as he made wild hand gestures. "I don't remember what it's called." He uttered dejectedly.

Merlin felt bad for the lad; he knew firsthand how hard a servant's job was at first. The corridors were a maze to the unaccustomed and the terms used to reference certain rooms were like a language of their own.

"What did your master send you to do?"

"Um, I think he wanted to give a message to the king. Yes, that's it! I need to find the king." The boy's face lit up with a smile, and the warlock instantly joined him.

"Come on, I'll take you to him. I'm Merlin, by the way."

"Lester." He averted his eyes in a kind of shyness that seemed out of place.

Turning on his heel, Merlin led Lester back to Arthur's chambers. The servant was sure that Arthur had plenty of work that he would just love to remind him to do, but a message would distract him, or at least Merlin hoped so.

The door was barely a few feet away, and Merlin extravagantly gestured to the it, watching Lester's confused face stare back up at him.

"The king's chambers." Merlin explained, and the shocked boy made an 'o' with his mouth and nodded quickly.

"Well, are you going in?"

"Me?"

"You do have a message, don't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't think that I would give it directly to the king himself!"

"Who else would you give a message to the king to, if not the king?" Lester blushed profusely, then with a great intake of air, he opened the door.

"Back so soon, Merlin? Here I almost thought I'd have to track you down to give you the rest of my orders." Arthur shouted, his back turned to the door.

Lester instantly began to stutter, swiveling his head back and forth between the two men. Merlin merely laughed silently and gestured to Lester to speak.

"Are you mute, now?" By then, the king had turned to throw whatever he had on hand at his manservant, when he was greeted with the sight of a trembling young boy staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're not Merlin." Arthur spotted his servant sneaking out the door again. "And where do you think you're going, you lazy idiot? Explain why there's a peasant in my rooms?" He didn't mean to be harsh, but Arthur was too confused to really think about what he was saying.

"His name is Lester, and he has a message from his master."

"Who is his master, then?" Surprisingly, Lester spoke up.

"Lord Levi of Alereon."

"Alereon?" The kingdom was a small one, yet normally self-sufficient. King Levi was a shrewd man and rarely interacted with other kingdoms, choosing to remain neutral as long as he wasn't bothered.

"My lord wishes to secure a trading agreement, as our crops failed this year and the kingdom faces famine. He will be arriving in Camelot in less than a fortnight."

"A fortn- Merlin!" Arthur was thrown into a self-induced panic. "Get word out to the staff, we're receiving an important convoy. Tell them to free up our best rooms and prepare for a feast, which of course means we'll be going hunting soon, so you'll have to prepare my horse tomorrow."

Merlin groaned; why was it always hunting? Couldn't someone else go kill defenseless animals? Giving a quick nod to his king, Merlin ran out the door.

"And take Lester with you." Turning just long enough to grab the poor boy's wrist, Merlin dragged the stuttering young man through the halls at rapid pace. Of course, Merlin couldn't quite shake the bad feeling he always got when Camelot received foreign company. Perhaps it was because something always went wrong.

The warlock wondered what it would be this time: a hunting accident, an evil king, or a vengeful sorcerer. Maybe destiny would throw something new his way, though he seriously doubted it. Remembering that Lester had no idea where they were going, Merlin tried to explain some of the layout.

"We're heading to the kitchens first; they generally get the word out to most of the servants."

"I thought we needed to see the head of staff?" So he was either a bootlicker or King Levi was extremely strict, though Merlin figured that there were kings out there that could out prat Arthur.

"This is more efficient. It’s easier to find the cook than the head of staff, and she needs the information quicker than anybody else." Merlin sent him his signature grin, winking at the helpless servant as they slowed down. "Here's the kitchen. I hope you learn quick, Cook is rarely lenient in her rules. Don't even think about taking something or she'll know and you'll find yourself at the mercy of her rolling pin."

Lester audibly gulped, his eyes widening in comical proportions to his gaunt face. Merlin couldn't help teasing him, and it was mostly true, just slightly...exaggerated, perhaps.

Mary might not allow any other servant to steal food, but it was the opposite for Merlin. She was always trying to stuff his face as soon as he walked in, desperate to help what she saw as the poor, starving lad who diligently served the king, and damn anyone who tried to reason with her. Unfortunately, Merlin was included in that sentiment; if anything, if he spoke up that he was perfectly healthy she only tried that much more to feed him.

"Merlin! Skinny as ever I see." The larger woman instantly appeared, so quick that Lester jumped back in surprise. "I just made some bread, and I'm sure we can spare you a piece."

"Nonsense Mary, I have bad news."

"Tell me while you’re eating."

"Mary-"

"That's not negotiable!" She was scary as any fierce knight when she got like this; standing her full height, Mary still stared up at Merlin, but she was no less menacing.

"You'll need that bread; Arthur plans a-" Said bread was shoved in his mouth before he could reply. Behind him, Merlin could hear a tiny giggle where Lester stood, covering his mouth and giving the fellow servant a look that could rival Gaius'.

"And who is this?" Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. It seemed Lester was just skinny enough to be worthy of Mary's maternal instincts.

After the two of them ate enough to satisfy the motherly woman and Merlin had relayed his message, the servants ran out, eager to escape the cook's grasp. Merlin brought Lester around with him for the rest of the day, carrying out Arthur's orders along with the usual chores.

"Do you know where you'll be staying?" Merlin sat on his haunches in the stables, tired from running around all day. Lester shook his head.

"I brought enough coin for a room at the local tavern, but I don't know how many days it'll last."

"I'm sure I can get you a room somewhere. Why didn't your king secure a place for you here?"

"My lord," Lester paused, as if he wasn't sure what words to use. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. He can be very kind, but more often than not he's crueller than anything. The only reason he cares if his kingdom starves is less people mean less taxes and a worse economy."

"That's horrible." Merlin didn't sound as convincing as one might expect. To tell the truth, the warlock had suspected it. Kingdoms that kept to themselves, especially one so small, tended to be harsher; their kings hated collaborating with others, eager instead to gain riches rather than ensuring the happiness of their people. "Was the harvest that bad?"

Lester didn't answer for a long time, and the silence permeated the stable, broken only by the sounds of horses and the stable hands working several stalls down.

"My sister starved to death a couple of winters ago. This famine isn't new." He refused to meet Merlin's eyes, choosing to stare at the ground as he pushed the hay around with his shoes. Before the warlock could express his empathy, Lester was already leaving. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Lester," Merlin began.

"Just forget I said anything, okay? It's okay, I've come to terms with it." The not-smile on Lester's face reminded Merlin of himself. It was broken, but somehow just that much stronger because of it. They never talked about it again.

The two weeks passed too quickly for Merlin. He talked to the head of staff about a temporary room for Lester, lying about how his king supposedly would expect proper treatment of all of his subjects. Surprisingly, the hunt the following day went without a hitch; a deer, a boar, and several smaller game were now being prepared in the kitchens. The two servants nurtured the budding friendship, slowly becoming more open to each other.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when the stern king finally entered the halls of Camelot.

"King Levi," Arthur stood upon the great white steps, his beautiful wife next to him and his faithful servant politely behind with head bowed low. It was the image of perfect decorum. Said king dismounted his horse and signaled for his servants to take the reins.

"King Arthur, it is a pleasure to meet you. Ah! You must be the Lady Guinevere, beautiful as they say, I see." Levi bowed and kissed her hand politely, then clasped arms with Arthur.

"We welcome you to Camelot and hope we can come to an agreement that will benefit both of our kingdoms."

"Yes, I hope our trade brings great prosperity to all." Levi let his eyes wander across the people before him. For a moment, Merlin locked eyes with him, his blue eyes cold and calculating. The foreign king was quite unsettled by the young man, but made nothing of it. "I see my servant made it to you in timely manner."

"Yes, Lester was it? He has already settled in the antechamber of your rooms here, which my personal manservant will escort you to."

"Will you dine with us, or do you prefer to take the evening meal in your quarters tonight?" Guinevere chimed in.

"It would be rude of me to deny my hosts, though negotiations will wait until I am well rested."

"Of course. Merlin?" Arthur beckoned his servant forward. Merlin never took his eyes off the newcomer. His dark hair shone sandy brown in the sun and freckles adorned his face, which was round and pleasant, yet there was something there. Maybe he was being paranoid, but Merlin couldn't help but glare. Something was coming, he just didn't know what.

"This way, my lord." Levi was surprised at the hidden venom in the servant’s words as the scarfed young man led him through the corridors. So this must be Arthur's famous servant. Well, famous was perhaps a strong word, but King Levi had heard of him; it was out of a good laugh, at first. A wandering man who drank too much and spoke too loudly had passed through his kingdom once, and stories of the impudent servant to the king of Camelot seemed to be his favorite tales to tell.

"Will you fetch me for supper, or...?" Levi addressed the young man.

"Lester knows the castle well enough, my lord. Unless you request otherwise, he shall escort you from here on out." He sounded angry, though the king couldn't reason why. Little did he know that Merlin was memorizing his every move, analyzing every step. "Here are your rooms, sire."

Then, ignoring all niceties, Merlin turned heel and marched away, back rigid and eyes boring deadly holes in front of him. He couldn't stand being next to that king, and even he couldn't understand why. His hair stood on end and his nerves jumped with every step.

In the underworld, the grim god shivered with an anxiety he couldn't explain.

 

Merlin knew that nothing had really changed, but everything felt different nonetheless. He had no idea who he was anymore. There was no way to find out, either, as asking questions apparently would lead to his inevitable death.

Merlin remembered the ever present darkness and shuddered. Was he truly born a monster, that his very existence begot enemies? Yet, there was little he could do now. The young man was determined to ignore it, lest it drive him mad.

Months passed into years, and while Merlin never forgot, he didn't dwell on it. Finally, it seemed there was lasting peace, at least for some time. Morgana hadn't been spotted in over a year and all was quiet, peace spreading throughout the kingdom. Even the mild weather of that spring seemed to reflect the collective feelings of all the people.

"Merlin!" Well, not everything was perfect, far from it in fact, but the warlock was content dodging stray goblets. Seeing Arthur upon the throne filled the loyal servant with great satisfaction. There was little that could dim such contentedness, including blows to the head from the prat.

He dashed out of the room before Arthur could give him more chores, sliding up against the wall to avoid a rumpled looking servant. The poor young man stopped, however, and greeted Merlin breathlessly.

"Do you know where I can find...?" He trailed off, his face contorting in frustration as he made wild hand gestures. "I don't remember what it's called." He uttered dejectedly.

Merlin felt bad for the lad; he knew firsthand how hard a servant's job was at first. The corridors were a maze to the unaccustomed and the terms used to reference certain rooms were like a language of their own.

"What did your master send you to do?"

"Um, I think he wanted to give a message to the king. Yes, that's it! I need to find the king." The boy's face lit up with a smile, and the warlock instantly joined him.

"Come on, I'll take you to him. I'm Merlin, by the way."

"Lester." He averted his eyes in a kind of shyness that seemed out of place.

Turning on his heel, Merlin led Lester back to Arthur's chambers. The servant was sure that Arthur had plenty of work that he would just love to remind him to do, but a message would distract him, or at least Merlin hoped so.

The door was barely a few feet away, and Merlin extravagantly gestured to the it, watching Lester's confused face stare back up at him.

"The king's chambers." Merlin explained, and the shocked boy made an 'o' with his mouth and nodded quickly.

"Well, are you going in?"

"Me?"

"You do have a message, don't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't think that I would give it directly to the king himself!"

"Who else would you give a message to the king to, if not the king?" Lester blushed profusely, then with a great intake of air, he opened the door.

"Back so soon, Merlin? Here I almost thought I'd have to track you down to give you the rest of my orders." Arthur shouted, his back turned to the door.

Lester instantly began to stutter, swiveling his head back and forth between the two men. Merlin merely laughed silently and gestured to Lester to speak.

"Are you mute, now?" By then, the king had turned to throw whatever he had on hand at his manservant, when he was greeted with the sight of a trembling young boy staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're not Merlin." Arthur spotted his servant sneaking out the door again. "And where do you think you're going, you lazy idiot? Explain why there's a peasant in my rooms?" He didn't mean to be harsh, but Arthur was too confused to really think about what he was saying.

"His name is Lester, and he has a message from his master."

"Who is his master, then?" Surprisingly, Lester spoke up.

"Lord Levi of Alereon."

"Alereon?" The kingdom was a small one, yet normally self-sufficient. King Levi was a shrewd man and rarely interacted with other kingdoms, choosing to remain neutral as long as he wasn't bothered.

"My lord wishes to secure a trading agreement, as our crops failed this year and the kingdom faces famine. He will be arriving in Camelot in less than a fortnight."

"A fortn- Merlin!" Arthur was thrown into a self-induced panic. "Get word out to the staff, we're receiving an important convoy. Tell them to free up our best rooms and prepare for a feast, which of course means we'll be going hunting soon, so you'll have to prepare my horse tomorrow."

Merlin groaned; why was it always hunting? Couldn't someone else go kill defenseless animals? Giving a quick nod to his king, Merlin ran out the door.

"And take Lester with you." Turning just long enough to grab the poor boy's wrist, Merlin dragged the stuttering young man through the halls at rapid pace. Of course, Merlin couldn't quite shake the bad feeling he always got when Camelot received foreign company. Perhaps it was because something always went wrong.

The warlock wondered what it would be this time: a hunting accident, an evil king, or a vengeful sorcerer. Maybe destiny would throw something new his way, though he seriously doubted it. Remembering that Lester had no idea where they were going, Merlin tried to explain some of the layout.

"We're heading to the kitchens first; they generally get the word out to most of the servants."

"I thought we needed to see the head of staff?" So he was either a bootlicker or King Levi was extremely strict, though Merlin figured that there were kings out there that could out prat Arthur.

"This is more efficient. It’s easier to find the cook than the head of staff, and she needs the information quicker than anybody else." Merlin sent him his signature grin, winking at the helpless servant as they slowed down. "Here's the kitchen. I hope you learn quick, Cook is rarely lenient in her rules. Don't even think about taking something or she'll know and you'll find yourself at the mercy of her rolling pin."

Lester audibly gulped, his eyes widening in comical proportions to his gaunt face. Merlin couldn't help teasing him, and it was mostly true, just slightly...exaggerated, perhaps.

Mary might not allow any other servant to steal food, but it was the opposite for Merlin. She was always trying to stuff his face as soon as he walked in, desperate to help what she saw as the poor, starving lad who diligently served the king, and damn anyone who tried to reason with her. Unfortunately, Merlin was included in that sentiment; if anything, if he spoke up that he was perfectly healthy she only tried that much more to feed him.

"Merlin! Skinny as ever I see." The larger woman instantly appeared, so quick that Lester jumped back in surprise. "I just made some bread, and I'm sure we can spare you a piece."

"Nonsense Mary, I have bad news."

"Tell me while you’re eating."

"Mary-"

"That's not negotiable!" She was scary as any fierce knight when she got like this; standing her full height, Mary still stared up at Merlin, but she was no less menacing.

"You'll need that bread; Arthur plans a-" Said bread was shoved in his mouth before he could reply. Behind him, Merlin could hear a tiny giggle where Lester stood, covering his mouth and giving the fellow servant a look that could rival Gaius'.

"And who is this?" Suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore. It seemed Lester was just skinny enough to be worthy of Mary's maternal instincts.

After the two of them ate enough to satisfy the motherly woman and Merlin had relayed his message, the servants ran out, eager to escape the cook's grasp. Merlin brought Lester around with him for the rest of the day, carrying out Arthur's orders along with the usual chores.

"Do you know where you'll be staying?" Merlin sat on his haunches in the stables, tired from running around all day. Lester shook his head.

"I brought enough coin for a room at the local tavern, but I don't know how many days it'll last."

"I'm sure I can get you a room somewhere. Why didn't your king secure a place for you here?"

"My lord," Lester paused, as if he wasn't sure what words to use. "Let's just say I wouldn't want to be on his bad side. He can be very kind, but more often than not he's crueller than anything. The only reason he cares if his kingdom starves is less people mean less taxes and a worse economy."

"That's horrible." Merlin didn't sound as convincing as one might expect. To tell the truth, the warlock had suspected it. Kingdoms that kept to themselves, especially one so small, tended to be harsher; their kings hated collaborating with others, eager instead to gain riches rather than ensuring the happiness of their people. "Was the harvest that bad?"

Lester didn't answer for a long time, and the silence permeated the stable, broken only by the sounds of horses and the stable hands working several stalls down.

"My sister starved to death a couple of winters ago. This famine isn't new." He refused to meet Merlin's eyes, choosing to stare at the ground as he pushed the hay around with his shoes. Before the warlock could express his empathy, Lester was already leaving. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Lester," Merlin began.

"Just forget I said anything, okay? It's okay, I've come to terms with it." The not-smile on Lester's face reminded Merlin of himself. It was broken, but somehow just that much stronger because of it. They never talked about it again.

The two weeks passed too quickly for Merlin. He talked to the head of staff about a temporary room for Lester, lying about how his king supposedly would expect proper treatment of all of his subjects. Surprisingly, the hunt the following day went without a hitch; a deer, a boar, and several smaller game were now being prepared in the kitchens. The two servants nurtured the budding friendship, slowly becoming more open to each other.

It seemed like no time had passed at all when the stern king finally entered the halls of Camelot.

"King Levi," Arthur stood upon the great white steps, his beautiful wife next to him and his faithful servant politely behind with head bowed low. It was the image of perfect decorum. Said king dismounted his horse and signaled for his servants to take the reins.

"King Arthur, it is a pleasure to meet you. Ah! You must be the Lady Guinevere, beautiful as they say, I see." Levi bowed and kissed her hand politely, then clasped arms with Arthur.

"We welcome you to Camelot and hope we can come to an agreement that will benefit both of our kingdoms."

"Yes, I hope our trade brings great prosperity to all." Levi let his eyes wander across the people before him. For a moment, Merlin locked eyes with him, his blue eyes cold and calculating. The foreign king was quite unsettled by the young man, but made nothing of it. "I see my servant made it to you in timely manner."

"Yes, Lester was it? He has already settled in the antechamber of your rooms here, which my personal manservant will escort you to."

"Will you dine with us, or do you prefer to take the evening meal in your quarters tonight?" Guinevere chimed in.

"It would be rude of me to deny my hosts, though negotiations will wait until I am well rested."

"Of course. Merlin?" Arthur beckoned his servant forward. Merlin never took his eyes off the newcomer. His dark hair shone sandy brown in the sun and freckles adorned his face, which was round and pleasant, yet there was something there. Maybe he was being paranoid, but Merlin couldn't help but glare. Something was coming, he just didn't know what.

"This way, my lord." Levi was surprised at the hidden venom in the servant’s words as the scarfed young man led him through the corridors. So this must be Arthur's famous servant. Well, famous was perhaps a strong word, but King Levi had heard of him; it was out of a good laugh, at first. A wandering man who drank too much and spoke too loudly had passed through his kingdom once, and stories of the impudent servant to the king of Camelot seemed to be his favorite tales to tell.

"Will you fetch me for supper, or...?" Levi addressed the young man.

"Lester knows the castle well enough, my lord. Unless you request otherwise, he shall escort you from here on out." He sounded angry, though the king couldn't reason why. Little did he know that Merlin was memorizing his every move, analyzing every step. "Here are your rooms, sire."

Then, ignoring all niceties, Merlin turned heel and marched away, back rigid and eyes boring deadly holes in front of him. He couldn't stand being next to that king, and even he couldn't understand why. His hair stood on end and his nerves jumped with every step.

In the underworld, the grim god shivered with an anxiety he couldn't explain.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The trade negotiations began three days after the company's arrival; the king of Alereon was eager to return home. Arthur knew that these negotiations were important, but he wasn't sure where to start. Camelot had always done well agriculturally, despite the harsher conditions that had been plaguing the land for many years. Trading some grain wouldn't be a problem, but there were no previous interactions with King Levi to reference. It was hit and miss, as far as pleasing him went.

Luckily, Alereon's king was headstrong and took charge immediately. Arthur found the other man quite pleasant, in his own way. It was more like bargaining in the markets with a shrewd merchant. Compared to the political persuasion most often used, it was oddly refreshing; there was no misunderstanding on where either of them stood on the subject.

Merlin silently served in the background, still edgy around the man. He knew there was nothing there; King Levi was a very down to earth individual. He just couldn't forget what Lester told him, though, and, combined with the growing unease, Merlin knew a storm was brewing. Now it was just a matter of when.

A few meetings later and some contemplation, Camelot and Alereon signed a treaty of trade. Levi, who seemed very reserved during the negotiations, began to relax. Arthur had immediately declared for a feast to be held in honor of the successful outcome.

King Levi readily agreed that a feast sounded quite nice, and the two kings bonded one of the only ways men knew how to. The following hunt brought a beautiful doe and a plump ram to be prepared. Merlin thought he was very luckily not to be kitchen staff; killing and skinning animals was no pleasing thing.

The morning of the feast, Lester ran into Gaius' chambers, though how he managed to make such speed remained a mystery. His shirt was stained with blood which ran in a steady stream from his nose. He had several smaller cuts along his cheek and bruises littered his skin.

"Lester, my gods, what happened?" Gaius ran over to the panting boy, catching him as he collapsed. As Gaius examined him, the poor lad told his story between gasps of pain and winces as Gaius touched sore areas.

"King Levi, he caught me spying on him. He was preparing a dagger, Merlin. When he grabbed me by the neck, I goaded him into telling me what he planned. Merlin, he plans on killing King Arthur!" Merlin's eyes grew dark and he crouched next to his friend.

"When?"

"At the banquet. He's going to pull the dagger, disguised as his gift, and stab it through King Arthur's heart." Lester passed out then, eyes rolling back as he slumped, dead to the world. Merlin looked at his mentor, appalled.

"Will Lester be alright?" Gaius sighed, but sat back as if to look the boy over just once more.

"He appears to have several bruised ribs and a broken nose, but that's not what I'm worried about. He took quite a beating, that's for sure, and I need to check him for head wounds. I won't know for sure until he wakes up." The physician had switched to his monotonous tone used for examination.

"Arthur has to be warned." Merlin was standing in a second, concern for his king outweighing concern for the other servant.

"We have no proof, Merlin. You've accused knights and nobility before, yes, but this is a king."

"Arthur needs to know he's in danger, regardless of class." Merlin retorted, then mumbled more to himself, "I knew I had a bad feeling about this."

"You'll have to stop him in the act, Merlin. Arthur seems to have taken a liking to King Levi and he's done nothing yet to warrant such suspicion. Our only proof is passed out and we don't know when he'll wake up."

"You don't trust him? He probably risked his life to get us this information."

"I trust him, yes, but don't you remember last time we went to the king about such a matter when our witness was out cold?"

"That was a different case and a different king."

"I just think it's odd that King Levi would try to take Camelot. The man has kept himself out of all foreign affairs for his entire kingship and this isn't Morgana's usual style - he would have nothing to gain! His kingdom is too small, too far away to go to war with. It just doesn't make sense for there to be a plot to kill the king."

"When is there not? And there's no time for making sense, Gaius. Lester had already told me how cruel his king can be; he just hasn't acted until now. Reasons be damned, I have to warn Arthur." With that, Merlin ran out of the room. He had a friend to warn.

The king wasn't hard to find, but after running the whole way there, Merlin paused to catch his breath. Seeing his manservant slacking when there was a feast to prepare for, Arthur strode over to scold his lazy friend.

"Arthur-"

"There you are, Merlin. We have a celebration to prepare, or have you forgotten that?"

"Arthur, there's something I have to warn you-"

"Spending your time in the tavern again? Oh, maybe this time you just forgot to wake me up on time."

"Listen, you prat-"

"Because you seem to think that you don't have to help the other servants prepare, I think I'll have you mucking out the stables again. I wouldn't neglect our guests' horses, either."

"Arthur!" Heads turned and a stressful silence spread throughout the corridor. Servants stopped in their tracks; not even a whisper was given.

"You'll be in the stocks for that." It was said with cold anger, the likes of which Merlin hadn't heard in a long time. He gave Arthur a confused look, before he felt it: the eyes on his back. Turning around slowly, he met the eyes of the king of Alereon.

Oh.

"There's no need, though perhaps the afternoon in the dungeons would be more appropriate. His arms would certainty hurt less. Besides, you'll need him in top shape for the feast." King Levi directed a fond smile in Merlin's direction, looking pleased with himself; it looked as if he believed he'd done the servant a favor.

Arthur's hands were tied. Reluctantly, he agreed. As the guards escorted Merlin to the lower levels, the warlock could only think of how right his mentor was; he should have waited. He could do nothing from a cell, and Arthur was still in danger. If anything, he probably set Levi on edge.

When Merlin's butt hit the cold hard floor, his hands worked at his hair frantically, pulling the dark hair in every direction. At least he would be out in time to stop whatever scheme the foreign king had, he would just have less time than he'd like.

Worrying his lip, Merlin sat down on the filthy straw. It would be a long and anxious wait.

Arthur regretted not letting his manservant speak, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Once his friend was out of sight, Arthur addressed the other king.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, there is a matter of great importance, a treason that I had only wished I had spotted. We shouldn't talk here, though." The sturdy man leaned forward, "I'm not sure how many ears he has. I will say, however, that the situation can be disarmed with good caution, and none the wiser. How to do so, well that's I wish to address."

Arthur grew concerned and nodded slowly, dread building. Whatever was amiss wouldn't end well.

"To my chambers, then."

The guards announced that he could leave now. With great haste, Merlin sprinted through the halls, even snatching a pitcher out of another servant's hands. It was mean, but he didn't have time to waste preparing properly. He was already late.

Arthur found that he sorely missed his friend during the celebration. So used to having Merlin near to share unguarded looks and snarky expressions, the king found himself glances back to only remember that Merlin was in the dungeons; he hoped he the servant would be rejoining them soon. Sighing for the fiftieth time, he returned to conversation with Levi.

Arthur found himself quite enjoying the other man's company. He was shrewd, yes, but he had a peaceful sense to him. At least, for now he did. The king of Camelot shivered, remembering their earlier conversation. As Alereon's king told of his findings, his temper boiled, racking the man's body like ocean waves hitting jagged cliffs. He never shouted, but volume was not necessary to express the anger beneath.

Even so, Arthur like the king. He let his mind wander for a bit, thinking on their possible future interactions. Perhaps one day they would be good allies.

"Ah, my friends, I have a gift for you!" Levi, whom drink had made merrier, addressed the royals, "I sent a servant to get them- there! Here he comes now."

Rising, Levi nodded eagerly to both of them before walking around the head table. A servant stood meekly, holding out a box before him. The king lifted the lid and, taking the contents in his hand, turned to present his gift to Arthur.

"No!" A familiar shout echoed through the hall, which silenced itself quickly. Merlin ran forward through the servants’ entrance, hell-bent on intercepting the attempt on his king's life. The water jug hit the floor and he ran into the other king, recoiling slightly. There was something in his hand, something that wasn't there before.

Something that oddly looked like a dagger was lodged in the heart of the king of Alereon. The hands holding it there shook greatly with sudden realization. When Levi looked into the eyes of the servant, it was with confusion and fading recognition, before he fell to the floor.

When he fell, his hands opened to reveal a child's toy, rare and exotic. It would've been for Camelot's future heirs, but now it was stained dark red and rendered ugly.

There had been no assassination attempt. Merlin had killed an innocent man.

Slowly, he turned around to face his king, his friend. Arthur's eyes were wide with shock and only grew wider when they lowered to look at the dagger in his best friend's hands. Blood stained Merlin's hands red, which were quaking with fear. Fear for what, Arthur couldn't tell; he himself was afraid at that moment.

The two men met eyes, words not needed to express their feelings. Merlin found pools of confusion, which he mirrored back to Arthur with added guilt and dread. It seemed like hours had passed, though it was only seconds. Suddenly, the silence was broken with screams of terror and anger. 'Gods help us!' and 'Gods smite him' were in equal volume as the gasps turned to whispers turned to shouts and then back.

"Guards," Arthur's voice broke. He pretended not to notice. "Guards! T-take him away."

Merlin didn't fight it as he was dragged to the dungeons for a second time that day. He didn't even feel it when his head hit against the far wall of a cell. He knew that he was bleeding, could feel the sticky substance drip down his neck, yet he couldn't care. He welcomed the call of darkness and fell unconscious.

When Poseidon entered the underworld for a second time in one century, Hades knew something had happened.

"Your boy overstepped- that line has been crossed!" The sudden anger startled Hades, but when he looked at his brother he couldn't read him.

"I fear I don't understand." It wasn't a lie for once, as the Dread Lord found himself at a loss.

"Your Merlin just killed a demigod."

"Since when did any of you lot care about what happened to your children?" Countless faces popped through his mind, but he batted them away. Now wasn't the time to reminisce.

"It was his cousin."

"One of Zeus' children?"

"One of mine." It still wasn't enough, still too ambiguous. Why would Poseidon care about one child? Hades ignored the irony.

"I will repeat again. Since when did any of you care about your children?" Poseidon's true face remained masked behind indifference, but there was a flicker there. Something shone through and Hades knew immediately what had happened. Someone else had discovered Merlin, someone with some amount of influence.

"Who was it?" He wasn't asking about the demigod. Poseidon's eyes then sparkled like the sea at night, flashes of white stars across their endless blue depths. The corner of his mouth turned up, but formed a grimace rather than his signature lopsided grin.

"It's her."

 


	6. Chapter 6

Merlin looked through the cell bars warily. Standing before him was a form shrouded in black, shadows curling around it as if to join with their master. With wavering voice, Merlin called out.

"Who are you?" The sound resounded through the empty hall, mocking with every echo.

The being chuckled darkly, a cruel and scathing sound.

"Why, I'm you of course!" Without warning the darkness parted to reveal the man underneath. The black cloak of shadows fell behind him, stretching out as if to snuff every light. His now visible hands dripped with blood, a thick and metallic smell overpowering Merlin's senses.

Merlin flinched violently, sliding back against the wall. He slowly shook his head.

"No, that's not possible." Merlin denied. "You're not- who are you really?"

The man laughed, his voice eerily similar.

"Don't you recognize these hands?" The cell melted away in the darkness. Unhindered by bars, Not Merlin stepped closer and closer, lifting the bloody digits until Merlin couldn't ignore them. "Hasn't the darkness called to you before? I'm the real you, stripped of the mask you use to fool all of them."

"You're wrong!"

"Am I?"

Merlin swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to vomit. Not Merlin continued his taunts.

"Did you not kill an innocent man?"

"I thought he was going to harm Arthur; I didn't mean to kill him!"

"Maybe not, but you enjoyed it." The voice was surprisingly gentle now.

"I didn't!"

"You liked it just as much as you liked killing Nimueh." He accused calmly. "The thrill of death, the connection you feel when life leaves someone by your hands, that isn't imagined! You feel dark, a deliverer of death, and it feels natural."

It was truer than he would ever like to admit.

"I'm the darkness inside you, and I won't be ignored any longer."

After that warning, the darkness pooled around Merlin, flowing into his mouth like water, choking him. He lost focus as the agony ripped him apart.

His own whimpering woke him up.

As his focus returned, he became aware of certain details.

He had been dreaming. Part of him already came to that conclusion as soon as he saw the Not Him. He was no seer, but such a dream never bodes well. He would do well to keep on guard, even against himself.

Another, disturbing thought was that it was pitch black with only a sliver of silver through the stone slits, the full moon providing the grim light.

Finally, they hadn't washed his hands. It was a small blemish in the face of what he did, but somehow the fact that they hadn't bothered Merlin. He wondered how similar he looked to the apparition in his dream, hands stained that ugly red and shadows heavily falling against him. Were his eyes just as cruel?

He rubbed his hands together frantically, as if the heat and the friction would cleanse him of his crime. Yet, Merlin wasn't sure whose crime it was; the dagger was a glaring detail, one the warlock couldn't quite place.

The servant had never seen the weapon before, but somehow it had found its way into his hands. Levi was supposed to be the killer, not he. His mind wandered in circles as he tried to piece together what had really happened. What had he missed?

"Merlin." He was shocked out of his musings; he hasn't even heard steps. The voice was sad, resigned even, and Merlin didn't need to look up to know who it belonged to. When he met his eyes, he could feel the shame rising up his neck. The pained expression he saw was too serious, too out of place to belong on Gwaine's face.

"Merlin, mate, what happened?" The knight shook his head back and forth, like he could dispel whatever illusion had taken over reality.

"I'm not a killer," Merlin knew it was a lie as soon as the words left his mouth. Where then was Nimueh and the many others that he had killed? His mistakes cost lives just as much as his direct actions. How much blood was truly on his hands? Violence and death bred in his wake.

"Gwaine I swear that this was not my doing, never my intent. You know I would never harm an innocent man!" Merlin clarified, if only to himself. The words were truer, but their meaning empty in the face of his actions.

Gwaine began to fidget and, after looking back at the guards, leaned in further. Merlin stepped forward to listen.

"I know you're innocent, and so does Arthur. Merlin, please think. Who were you with before Levi's death?"

"I was here, in the dungeons." He didn't mention it was by Levi's order. Why add motive?

"Before that."

"With Gaius and-" It struck Merlin instantly. Why hadn't he thought it strange before?

"And Lester."

Gwaine nodded, but his smile didn't return. His bid Merlin farewell before reporting back to Arthur.

The king in question was having a hard time calming down the masses. The people of Alereon were crying out for blood, but his people were hesitant. Even the ones who had witnessed the murder paused before condemning, giving moment to remember the boy's unwavering loyalty and acts of heroism.

Most couldn't reconcile the servant with the murderer.

Whispers of war rose up, along with rumors of conspiracy and political assassination. Arthur knew they weren't far from the truth, but they were pointing their fingers in the wrong direction. Gaius had come to him immediately after the event.

"Sire, Merlin isn't too blame, I beg of you to hear me out." Arthur had a passing thought that he had never heard the old man so desperate.

"I know," He felt a sort of disappointment when Gaius started; apparently he had expected more of an argument. Arthur sighed, but continued, "Levi had come to me earlier with information regarding a plan to kill him. His servant was the culprit; my only question is how Merlin got involved."

"Those two grew close while he was here. Lester fed Merlin lies about King Levi and before the feast, " Gaius looked as guilty as his voice was grave. It was with a pained and faraway expression that he finished, "Lester came into my chambers, beaten and bloody spouting something about Levi plotting to kill you, sire. Merlin left to warn you, but never did I think this would happen."

"And the dagger?"

"I don't know. It's not Merlin's, I can tell you that. I can only assume it was Lester's, but I don't know when Merlin would've gotten a hold of it, or why."

Arthur nodded. The dagger was giving the king a headache, but he couldn't ignore it.

"That weapon could be the key to Merlin's salvation. If we can prove that it belonged to the other servant, Merlin could be proven innocent." Arthur desperately ran his hands through his hair tugging the blond strands as if they would give him answers.

"Sire, even if we could prove this, Merlin still committed the act. It wouldn't be enough to satisfy the people."

Arthur sat down solemnly with a heavy sigh.

"I know, Gaius, but I can't do this. I can't sentence Merlin to banishment, let alone death. These people want his head on a spike. I'd rather it remains on his shoulders."

"Then our only hope is that dagger, and that's not too promising."

"How long can we delay his sentence?" Gaius had no answer.

Hades paced back and forth, anxious and worried about his son.

"Of all the times- Why now, Poseidon? Why would she choose to act now?"

"I don't think she realizes that Merlin isn't normal. She thinks you've found someone and until she can find them, she's going to eliminate everyone involved." It was rare that Poseidon found himself the voice of reason to his older brother. Despite the circumstances, he was tempted to feel smug about it.

"That psychopathic woman will be the death of me. She's going to have Merlin killed out of petty, unfounded jealousy!" Hades' hair stuck out at odd ends as he attacked it relentlessly. Letting out a furious cry, he slammed his hands against the arms of his throne. "Has she already gone to Zeus?"

"If she hasn't yet, she will soon. You know he'll agree to anything his precious daughter asks. If she's smart, she'll have him hold Merlin on trial not only for the murder of a demigod, but the mimicking of a divine gift not given to him."

"It's ridiculous and unprecedented. The gods don't hold trials!" Hades countered.

"Zeus will think it good entertainment."

"Zeus is a right prat." Hades paused, contemplating. With a look of fake disgust, he addressed his brother again, "On that note, you are too. Why are you helping me again?"

Poseidon caught the teasing tone and smirked. He had a lot to make up for after what he had put his brother through, so if all it took to ease some of his anxiety was some harmless teasing, you'd be damn sure he'd provide it.

"That's a good question. I don't care about my kids, let alone yours. I should just head home at this point; no use being on the losing side."

Hades was struck with instant inspiration.

"How far are you willing to follow me, brother?"

"What're you thinking?" The playful tones were gone, and Poseidon was nervous to learn what his scheming brother had come up with this time.

"Something big and impossible that'll have us both crawling away like beaten dogs if we fail." The crazed smile on Hades' face only grew with Poseidon's resigned sigh.

"I've followed you too far to back out now."

"Everything is set up perfectly for it and no one would even know! It's about time really, and if we succeed, everyone will prosper. Well, everyone except for Zeus that is, but that should be obvious."

"Brother-"

"Just imagine-"

"I don't know what I'm imagining-"

"Now, if we fail we'll wish there was death for us immortals-"

"Brother!" Hades looked up again, startled. It was the youngest that Poseidon had seen him look for a long time. "You're rambling."

Hades rubbed the back of his neck in shame; it was a habit he had even as a fledgling god.

"Now, what's this plan of yours?"

Persephone sauntered through the great halls of Olympus, giggling as life sprung up around her. She bowed deeply in front of her father, then pouted in false distress.

"Father," She whined, "This pathetic mortal has been upsetting me."

Zeus hungrily watched the beautiful girl before him, but laced his words with concern and fatherly doting.

"Who are they and what have they done, dear daughter?"

"It's Hades' son! He killed one of Poseidon's children and has been mimicking my magic! Hades sent him just to upset me, I know it. He makes a mockery of me all the time."

Zeus narrowed his eyes, now more attentive than ever.

"What would you have me do?"

"I want him dead, but I want Hades to watch. I want them both to feel despair and helplessness." Zeus smiled broadly; never would he turn down the chance to make his wretched brother suffer.

"How do you propose we do that?" He liked how Persephone thought. If she already had a plan in mind, he needn't think of one himself.

"The boy, Merlin is his name, should be tried and found guilty as Hades tries to save him, to spite me of course. His punishment will be torture and destruction of his very soul."

"In front of everyone? I suppose that would break the monotony around here. I'll send word to the mortals and arrange for him to be given over right away."

"Thank you, father. If I may, could I deliver the message myself?"

"If you wish." Zeus dismissed her and Persephone left in a better mood than she had come.


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you sure?" Arthur's voice was strong and unwavering, but the blood was swiftly draining from his face. "Lester and the dagger are both gone?"

"Yes milord. We searched the body and Gaius reported the boy missing almost immediately after..." The guard trailed off. No one wanted to directly say what had happened to the king; speaking of it became almost taboo.

Arthur nodded, more to himself than the man standing before him. Their small hope of saving Merlin was gone before it could ever bloom properly. Gaius had suspected magic played a role in Lester's involvement and maybe even the murder itself.

The people of Alereon were crying out for blood. This was the third day, and Arthur couldn't hold them back any longer without war.

"Bring the prisoner before the throne. It's time for his trial." Arthur couldn't even say Merlin's name. He had called the round table together the evening before, discussing their options related to Merlin. It was either prove that Lester was the conspirator, or Merlin would be put to death.

They're proof had disappeared as soon as their plan had been thought.

Arthur sat on the throne with as much comfort as he would if it was made of thorns. The great doors opened, parting to reveal two guards half dragging his best friend forward, onlookers turning in unison. There was a sick sort of symmetry to it.

Merlin was deposited at his feet, and he stared forward through those pleading blue eyes. The servant looked terrible, like the shadows swallowed him up and spat him out half of the man he was.

"Merlin of Ealdor, you've been found guilty of the murder of Levi, King of Alereon." It took all of Arthur's strength to not break. His voice was unwavering and monotone, forcing the vile words through his mouth. "The penalty of murder alone is death. The murder of an allied king is equivalent to treason, and demands death. I, King Arthur Pendragon, in accordance to the laws set forth, have no choice but to sentence you, Merlin, to be hung at noon tomorrow. May the gods have mercy on you."

Merlin said nothing, just silently nodded at his friend. Arthur looked at him, truly at him this time. Within Merlin's eyes was the very thing that broke him.

He saw forgiveness without blame, and a sort of gentleness found in a comforting friend.

With clenched jaw, Arthur nodded for said friend to be taken away, back to the cells to await his punishment. Walking with purpose and clenched jaw, the king strode back to his chambers, unable to face what he had just done, let alone comprehend how drastically he underestimated Merlin's kindness.

How ironic that the dying man would comfort his killer.

"Arthur." He hadn't noticed that his wife had followed him, though, Arthur supposed he hadn't noticed her at the trial either. To be honest, Arthur couldn't focus on anything. Gwen touched his arm softly, but he only shrugged her off, throwing open the door and slamming it shut behind him. His wife knew better than to try and talk to him right now. What mere words could make any of this better?

He made it a more steps forward before he collapsed to the floor in futile tears.

There was a glint of a dagger, a sigh of a resigned man, and a searing pain through his heart. He hadn't seen it coming, but he in hindsight he wasn't surprised.

It took a few minutes, but Arthur slowly became aware that the blinding pain, flashes of blood, and blurry figure had been replaced. What his new reality was exactly still eluded him. The dark, cavernous expanse filled him with mild fear and dread. There was a light in the distance, the faint sound of dripping water filled his ears.

He crept towards the light, as any sensible man would do.

A man was stepping out of a boat, his dark cloak obscuring his features and a strange helm in his hand. Arthur froze as the figure drew closer. Dark hair and blue eyes brought a different kind of pain and a sense of anxious importance.

"Merlin?" He called out, but no. The man was a bit too old, his scruffy chin and wisps of gray hair too out of place to be his servant. He had caught his attention, though, and the new man strode cleared the difference with purposed steps.

"Well, I hadn't expected this. Hello, Arthur Pendragon. No, I'm not your... friend." The man's calm, easy drawl unnerved the king, and suddenly Arthur wasn't so sure he wanted to know where he was.

"Who are you, and on that thought, where am I? Why do you say 'friend' like it's an insult?"

"Let's answer this in reverse, shall we? You claim to be Merlin's friend, but you hardly act like it. He is your friend, surely, but I can't understand why he considers you one. After all, you insult him relentlessly, ignore his advice even when he's proven to be right countless times, and is never there for him when he needs it. You ignore his signs of distress in favor of blissful ignorance while he jumps to comfort you at every turn." The words cut into Arthur worse than the dagger through his heart had. Wait...

"Am I dead?"

"I was getting to that. Yes, you are dead. Welcome to the underworld."

"You're Merlin's father, aren't you?"

"Look who's being perceptive all of a sudden!" The sarcasm rolled off of his tongue like sickening honey, sweet and sticky, sharper than his cheekbones. "Yes, I am his father. I was actually on my way to get my son, after you sentenced him to death."

Arthur hung his head in burning shame. This man had every reason to hate him, not that he blamed Merlin's father; Arthur hated himself too.

"Any other questions?"

"If you know everything that I've done to Merlin, does that mean we can watch the living? Know what happens to our loved ones?" Did he really want to see Gwen cry over him? Could he bare her pain, or would it be a worse kind of hell? Yet, he owed Merlin, enough so to endure the pain and watch him die, not out of sadism, but because of their battered friendship. He could give the man that, at least.

"No, it does not. I know what you're thinking, and while I'd love for you to watch your friend die, I'm the only one who can see the living while where the dead dwell."

"And why should you get the chance to see the living while I suffer here alone?"

"Because I'm Hades and I essentially own everything, and everyone, here." Arthur's jaw hit the floor as he stepped back slightly. The man he was talking to was Hades? Moreover, Merlin, his bumbling servant, was his son? "Now, it was a pleasure meeting you. Killing my son really is a laughable venture, might I say, but I have more pressing matters right now an really shouldn't waste my time talking to you. You can wait here for eternity if you'd like, but I suggest crossing over the river. Ask for Philip and tell him I sent you, he's head of my staff and will treat you appropriately. While it's been a nice chat, I must be off."

With a mirthless smile, Hades placed the helm on his head and disappeared in a blink of darkness. Still gob smacked, Arthur chose to cross the river and take his chances with this 'Philip' fellow. He hoped he would find some answers and clarity, though he sorely doubted it. If that really was Hades, hell was going to be, well, hell.

Merlin hadn't expected much else from his trial; he knew what his sentence would be as soon as Levi had hit the floor. Dejected eyes stared forward as he was gently laid into the cell.

"Gwaine?" He hadn't even noticed when his friend had replaced the guards. The knight reached out, pulling Merlin into a desperate, rough hug.

"It's going to be alright, Merlin." If he was crying, Merlin elected not to say anything.

"Gwaine, there's something that doesn't make sense. The servant, Gwaine, the servant!" Merlin pulled back, his mind finally working past the haze of dread. "Lester had to have some endgame, and I don't think Levi was it, he would've killed his king long before now."

"You think he's after the princess?"

"Find Arthur, now Gwaine! He's not safe!" Merlin was almost shouting at this point.

"Even after he's given up on you..." Gwaine could never forgive Arthur for doing this, for killing Merlin, yet here was the man himself worrying over his metaphorical executioner.

"His hands were tied and you know it. Don't blame him for this, I know I don't. Promise me, promise me you'll protect him when I'm gone." Arthur always scoffed at the notion that Merlin saved him in any way, but there was always that feeling of protectiveness, of safety, that emanated from Merlin. While they laughed it off, they all knew that somehow it was true.

Gwaine nodded sadly, but with new vigor turned and ran to find his king, leaving Merlin worrying in the dark.

Part of Merlin wanted to go after Arthur himself; it wouldn't matter if they learned of his magic now as he was already sentenced to death, but something was holding him back. A sort of paranoia had set in Merlin's brain, like a parasite latched onto its host; it was draining him. The dark, something was in the dark.

Gwaine was gone, and without him the overbearing presence of someone else returned in full.

"Hello?" Merlin called out into the darkness, of his cell.

"Hello." The deep voice startled Merlin, but he wasn't afraid. In fact, the servant found his muscles relaxing and his body inching towards the shadows. The voice was familiar, and Merlin trusted it.

The darkness took form, and Merlin flinched instantly, the parting black reminding him of his reoccurring dreams. Surely he was awake, wasn't he? Yet, the figure that emerged was not himself, but rather one he remembered vaguely.

"Father?" The man smiled sadly, and sat down across from his son, the helmet in his hand dissolving back into the shadows.

"Hello again, Merlin." Merlin watched as the darkness swallowed up the helm. He had heard of black magic before, and something as dark as this could be nothing but, yet it didn't feel as evil as he had expected. It was almost welcoming.

'Hasn't the darkness called to you before?' He could almost hear the apparition jeer, yet faced with the truth he could only agree. There were more important things at hand, however, and the appearance of his father despite the man's previous warnings took precedence over self-reflection.

"Why are you here? Last time I checked, you were pretty adamant about no contact, though, seeing as I'm waiting for the noose there can't be much else any potential enemies could do." Merlin wasn't sure where he stood with his father, seeing as there was little to none previous contact. Merlin trusted him to an extent, but he didn't even try to pretend that he understood him.

"On the contrary, death isn't something you should worry about." A slight smirk appeared on his father's face, like something was bloody hilarious and no one else understood. "There are far worse fates awaiting you, and that's why I'm here. Those enemies that I told you about? They know about you and they're not exactly happy about it."

"What kind of worse fates are we talking about here?"

"Oh, I'm sure they can get creative, but eternal pain and suffering will probably ensue, along with public humiliation and perhaps some grossly inaccurate stories told among cults that will last centuries from now." There was that smirk again, but it seemed more like a grimace, as if a personal offense was hidden there.

"How comforting." Merlin found the paranoia easing away as he slipped into his usual sass and sarcasm. He had not expected his father, but he found the man's presence unusually comforting. "How did you get in here, exactly? Was it magic?"

"No, it wasn't magic, but it is the same way we'll be leaving."

"Leaving?"

"I have a plan, one that avoids eternal suffering, and for it to work out, you need to come home, albeit a little unconventionally." Hades smiled, true happiness this time. His son was finally coming home. There was some doubt, however, that had nestled in the god's mind. Merlin was going to find out very soon, and Hades wasn't so sure that either of them were ready for that.

"What about Arthur? My friend, he's in danger and I can't leave him." Merlin's father hesitated, unsure if telling his son would be best. Honesty, however, won out; it would only get worse the longer he waited.

"Arthur Pendragon is already dead."

Somewhere in the castle, there was screaming. Gwen dropped next to her husband, the dagger still through his heart. She pressed her fingers against his neck, lead her head against his chest, desperate to find any source of life. The blood was beginning to soak through her dress, but it didn't matter.

Gwaine, on the other hand, was staring in cold silence; there wasn't anything to say. Vaguely he thought 'Merlin was right,' followed quickly by 'I've failed them both.' Neither brought any comfort. Bending over, the knight snatched up the piece of paper gently laid next to the king's head.

Carefully, he opened it.

 _To Queen Guinevere,_  
_Your king and husband is dead, and with him, the persecution of our kind. Once again, magic shall prosper freely and the people will learn to love us. No longer will we be burned after we watch our children drown. I have freed us. I do not desire to be king, but should you not take this warning to heart, I will remove you as well._

_If you wish for truth, seek me out and you shall find me, I will make sure of that. When you do, come alone. There is truth within this event that extends beyond us mortals and I have a feeling you will be finding out soon._

_The sorcerer and former servant,_  
_Lester_

"Oh, Gwen, what have we gotten into?" The warning bells were ringing, but the culprit was already long gone.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Merlin felt a sort of numbness as his father explained what was going to happen. His mind was beyond the cell, creeping towards the image of black coldness, of his friend's corpse. He thought he heard something about actually dying in his father's explanation, but he couldn't be sure.

"Your consciousness, the closest thing you have to a soul, will come with me while your body 'dies' here. When your corpse is either reduced to ashes, or is placed in the earth, it'll dissipate, leaving nothing she," The snarled word startled Merlin into focus, "could use to pull you back. Once you're safe, we can restore you."

"I'm sorry, what? Restore me?"

"Were you paying any attention?"

"My best friend is dead, so forgive me if I need a moment." Cold rage began to coil in Merlin's stomach. How dare the man expect so much of him? His life's work, his purpose and destiny, was gone, and his father thought he could just suddenly walk back into his life like this. He had the right to mourn, didn't he?

"Forget about Arthur for just this second. Trust me, he's fine." Hades realized that his definition of fine and his son's definition were nowhere near to matching up; it was too late to take it back, though.

"Fine? What part of being dead do you not understand? My best friend is gone and you want me to forget about him?" Merlin was close to shouting- not that it would've mattered; the guards were unaware of what was happening, a thick black haze obscuring their mind.

Being a god was convenient.

Hades still felt the grief radiating off of the young man, though, and for once it upset him. Being surrounded by death and sadness had desensitized him, but this wasn't just some blithering mortal that walked through his gates. This was his son, and he was in pain.

"That's not what I meant, Merlin, but we don't have much time. I don't know exactly how long she'll wait, but if I know her enough to guess, which I have the unfortunate privilege to, she'll want to make a spectacle of this. She'll show up a minute before your supposed execution time, no sooner, no later. You need to be dead before then."

"So faking my death, that's your plan? Who is this 'she' anyway, Morgana?" Merlin was getting tired of asking questions and he wanted some answers, dammit!

"Not quite. This'll hurt now, but everything should begin making sense after it."

"What's going to hurt-" The cold blade entered through his heart, and the coin was complete again.

The crossing over was dull. Arthur wasn't sure what he had expected, but it sure wasn't this. The one in charge of the boat, a short and tubby man, made bad attempts at conversation the whole trip; he was sure it would be the first of many tortures.

When he finally got off, Arthur was greeted by a menacing growl, deep and unfortunately close.

"H-hello there." His voice wavered as the massive three-headed hound leered at him. Arthur's height didn't even reach to the base of the neck. The king had faced many beasts, but none as big or as fierce as this. His hand flew to his side, but there was no sword.

"The worst he'll do is growl at you, so you can relax." Arthur didn't turn towards the voice, as he was too preoccupied with staring at the creature. A gentle hand grabbed his arm a tad forcefully, and dragged him away. The king was thrown through a doorway, and the beast was out of sight.

"If there was any doubt I was dead, it's gone now." Arthur knew his stories, and Cerberus was not easily forgotten. He turned to meet the other man, who was dressed in thin, but ominous looking armor.

"Yeah, he has a tendency to do that. It's one of the reasons Hades keeps him there: not for fear, though that does deter any attempts at escape, but for the shock factor. Nothing screams 'underworld' like her famous guard dog." Arthur wanted to laugh at the man's easy tone; he seemed almost proud of the beast.

"You sound used to it."

"I work here, if you can call it that. Hades appoints mortal souls he likes as staff, though we learn fairly quickly it's really just to keep the old man company. He's not what you think he is. The guy is pretty lax most of the time, though he has his moments." He ended dryly.

"Yeah, I've met him." This, of all things, did startle the guard.

"You've met him already? But you just got off the…" He was at a loss for words and Arthur wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"Yeah, I know. He told me to ask for a guard named Philip. Do you know him?"

"I am him, captain of staff at your service." Oh, well that was surprisingly convenient. "Any idea why he would send you my way?"

"None in particular, although..." Arthur debated whether or not he should tell of his relationship with Merlin after Hades chewed him out. Then again, what did he have to lose? "I'm Merlin's friend."

The change was instant. Philip stood taller, his shoulders squared, but his face was almost comical, the way his eyes bulged and his mouth parted just barely.

"How is the young lord?" Arthur was going to have to get used to the - People? Spirits? - referring to Merlin as 'lord'.

"He's, well I um, maybe sentenced him to death, but overall alright I guess. He was my manservant." Arthur's voice was cautious. He expected Philip to break out in rage; Lords were not servants, and Arthur was responsible for his sentence. He did not, however, expect the guard to burst out laughing.

"Was he a little too sassy for your tastes?" Arthur drew a blank.

"Well, no- I mean yes, he was infuriatingly so, a real idiot," Briefly he wondered if he should've kept his mouth shut before he insulted Hades' son anymore that he already had. "but that's not why I had to sentence him."

"Oh, I know that. Hades informed me of the whole mess of a situation before he left. I assume you'll either be assigned here, perhaps as Lord Merlin's manservant," Philip flashed a knowing smirk, "or maybe you'll simply be treated as a, uh, permanent guest."

Arthur considered the possibilities. Being near Merlin would be his spot of heaven in hell, not that he'd ever tell the man. It also meant, however, that he would be closer to Hades. The thought gave him shivers.

"So, tell me everything! I haven't seen Merlin since he was a babe."

When Merlin came to, he was wrapped in the arms of his father, clutching at the neck of his cloak like it would save him from the painful truth. Strong arms held him, and Merlin's face burned with shame as he detached himself quickly. Perhaps a bit too quickly, as the world lurched a second time.

"Easy, easy there."

"Where are we?"

"The underworld." Hades couldn't help the gentleness in his tone. Here was his son, whom he hadn't seen in person for far too long, and the one being he could openly love. On impulse he ruffled the young man's hair. "Congratulations, you're dead."

Merlin's eyes widened as he realized that his father hadn't been joking about dying, nor implying a fake death. Immediately, his thoughts turned to Arthur. Would he be able to see him again?

Another lurch brought Merlin's attention briefly to his surroundings. They were on a boat; a silent man was steering, like a solemn statue with the face of a grim sentinel and the river Styx lay stagnant below them. Yet, his thoughts didn't wander for long as his father shifted uncomfortably, reminding of the situation at hand.

"How did dying help me at all? And what about Arthur- can I see him?" Merlin's obsession with his other side of the coin was a matter that Hades was going to take up with the Fates. Destiny was the last thing Merlin needed to worry about; gods were not bound by the same rules as mortals. He was going to have a hell of a time trying to instill some self-preservation in this boy.

"Of course you can see Arthur, and it’s going to help because I'm going to reverse something." It was now or never, Hades supposed. There was no point in hiding it anymore. "Merlin, it's time for you to know who I am, and I can only hope you don't hate me for it, or worse, hate yourself."

With a deep breath, Hades told Merlin the truth. He told him who he was, who Hunith and Balinor really were, and about the innate abilities locked away. Merlin's face remained blank throughout, some of it he had known, but not the full picture. Finally, all the pieces fit into their place in the puzzle that was himself.

"So what, I'm a demigod?" Hades winced. That was the one aspect he had wanted to avoid until necessary. He didn't want to overwhelm Merlin, but nor was he willing to lie.

"Not quite. There isn't actually a single drop of human blood in you." Merlin caught on quickly, but had nothing to say. He sagged back against the rim of the boat, thoughts running through his head at an impossibly fast pace, passing too quickly to form coherently.

"And my mother?"

"You don't have one. I'm your only parent." The look Merlin shot him sent Hades rushing to clarify. "No no no! That's not- it's complicated, okay? If Athena can be born of Zeus's mind, you have to ignore conventional conceptions as the only explanations."

Merlin gave a small laugh, and Hades found himself joining along.

"I never expected to be laughing with the god of the underworld. I never expected my father to be the god of the underworld. Then again, I never thought I'd be a god. This is all so absurd!" They gave identical smiles, lopsided and full of mischief, and it sent them laughing again.

"So that's what you meant when you said Arthur was fine!" It suddenly dawned on Merlin. Hades hummed in agreement, though it had a darker tone than Merlin was expecting. He sent his father a questioning look, but Hades only shook his head.

"I gave that man quite a talking to." Horror drew itself across Merlin's face. Hades continued, "If that's how he treats his so called 'friends' then he needed it."

The protective parent had come out now, and such a beast was nigh impossible to stop.

"He treated you like dirt, Merlin! I won't have any son of mine-" He trailed off in a angry grumble.

"Are there any others?"

"Hm?"

"Sons, I mean. Or daughters. Do I have any siblings?"

"Oh, well no, actually. You're my only one, believe it or not." Merlin was surprised, seeing as the gods were most famous for their womanizing, leaving bastard children behind like a trail of crumbs. As if Hades could read minds, which there was debate on whether he possessed such ability, he reached out to comfort Merlin. "I've told you before, you were never just a bastard that happened, Merlin. You were born to be my son in all aspects, what followed was not my intention."

Reconciling the fear inducing, hateful Hades with the fatherly, lonely being before him was beginning to give Merlin a headache. Legends passed through his mind, and he compared the picture painted by them with the real thing.

"And Persephone? Couldn't your wife give you a child?" Hades hissed, angry and disgust crossing his face.

"She's the reason we're in this whole mess! That woman is awful, truly a nightmare to deal with. She's obsessed with me, you know? Just because I didn't want to marry her, or have sex with her, or be in the same vicinity as her, she goes and tells my brother that I raped her. She wanted to force me to marry her with silly rumors! It's not like Zeus didn't already had a great time spinning lies about me, this just fueled the fire."

"What does this have to do with me?" Merlin could now see the thin lies among the stories as he tried to figure his father out, but he didn't understand how she had anything to do with him.

"She found you and she's jealous. She thinks that I've had relations with a mortal woman when I won't with her- I haven't, but that's not any of her concern to begin with! She wants you dead out of petty jealousy and possessiveness and I'm rightly pissed." Merlin wondered if he looked as dangerous as his father when mad. Persephone had better watch her back.

"Milords, we're here." The statue man, as Merlin silently dubbed him, spoke quietly, as if afraid to call down the brewing wrath upon himself.

"Thank you." Hades curtly said. "Well, there's no point in dwelling on this right now. We have a lot of work to do."

The two departed from the boat and didn't make it ten steps before a howling and massive form leaped with unusual ease in their way. The huge dog was flanked by two other heads, it's looming presence causing Merlin to step back, but Hades only cooed at it.

"Cerberus, good boy!" The dog's massive tail went back and forth like any normal canine, it's tongues lolling out of all three mouths in unison. Hades conjured a massive, black ball of dark power, and threw it impossibly far to the left. Cerberus pounced away in a pounding of paws.

"Does a demonic three headed dog make a good pet?"

"For a being of black power and god over the dead, yes." Merlin had no counter argument.

 


	9. Chapter 9

When Merlin entered the throne room for the first time, he felt something he couldn't quite understand. It was like nostalgia for something he never had, a type of longing that only belonged in the past. It was sad, but it was the kind of ache that can't be placed, can't be soothed. He could feel the tension in his chest, the desire to explore what could have been, what should have been, his childhood home. This lasted up until he heard him.

"Merlin!" Arthur barreled into the younger man, hugging him tight. His weight pushed the poor boy back several feet, but as Merlin struggled to find his footing, his king only latched on tighter. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was dead, or maybe just exactly who his friend was, but Arthur was tired of pretending Merlin didn't matter.

Hades let the two have their moment, though he was very pleased to see the arrogant prat take his lecture seriously. It was about time Merlin had some good friends, as any father wishes for their son. After a while, though, it was just sickening.

"Come on, we have work to do, both of you." When they had finally separated and he had both of their attentions, he continued, "Persephone is our current enemy, but the true problem slouches on the throne of all thrones."

"Isn't Zeus your brother, Merlin's uncle?" Arthur inquired.

"Yes, and even more of a right prat than you. As soon as Merlin came into existence, Zeus sought his death. I'd be damned if I was to let my son fall at his hands, so I hid him. As long as Zeus remains on the throne, Merlin will never be safe. I've managed to hide him this long, but I can't any longer, Persephone has seen to it."

"How are we to defeat the most powerful god?" Merlin asked solemnly.

"Somehow, I have to turn you into a warrior, and a powerful one at that. It can be done, though the training will be rigorous. Remember, it's not just physical strength you need- in fact, that's the least of it. You need your powers, your immortality, unbound. Then, and only then, can we defeat your uncle."

"And how do we expect to do that? Haven't there already been attempts made to usurp him? We aren't better, and Merlin is... well, Merlin!" Arthur protested, albeit weakly. He realized that he had belittled his friend again, but this time he felt justified. Merlin couldn't defeat Zeus! Hades full gaze was upon him again, and while Arthur knew his status with Merlin protected him, he couldn't shake the automatic fear associated with the god.

"He won't be doing it alone. Merlin, do you know why no one has ever been able to beat my brother?" Merlin shook his head, still deeply concerned about any attempt to turn him into a warrior. "Me and my brothers are the three most powerful gods, and whoever has two of us on their side generally gets the backing of the rest, generally wins. Poseidon has finally agreed to help me, but my brother has too many others on his side still. You, my son, are of equal strength, you just don't know it yet. With you, the others will rally to our cause, and even if they don't, we can still win."

"So we're going to take down Zeus?"

"That's the plan."

Anyone who knew her well would tell you Guinevere was one of the strongest people they knew. She didn't have a knight's swing, but she had courage and an enduring strength that was hard to match. After her husband's death, the council immediately tried to dethrone her, to take the kingdom away from what they saw as an unworthy peasant.

Gwen did what she always had: ignore them.

They were the least of her problems, and the people loved her too much to lend support to the greedy nobles. Besides, she had always been wife first, queen second, and she would mourn and avenge her husband long before she dealt with the council. When they had found Merlin dead in his cell, wounds matching that of her husband's, she was able to absolve her friend of his presumed crimes and give him a hero's burial next to her husband's. Merlin had always deserved better, and Gwen would give it to him, even if it came too late.

When she announced that they were to be buried side by side, many argued that a servant didn't belong there. Gwen heard none of their complaints. This, at least, she would have. She had called together envoys from Alereon and the knights of the round table, and the futures of both kingdoms were discussed. King Levi's findings before his death, along with the suspicion of magic involved, brought about a peaceful ending to the growing tension. While the kingdoms were far from allies, they were both on the road to recovery.

There was one thing left of this whole mess that Gwen couldn't leave be, one thing that didn't add up. She had a loose thread, and she intended to follow it as far as she could.

"You can't look for him, your highness," Leon implored, "It's obviously a trap. We've lost one monarch; we can't lose another."

"I can't shake this feeling that I'm not doing enough."

"In the light of all that has happened, you're doing just fine-"

"Elyan, my husband is dead and the only way to get answers is to seek out Lester, or whomever he really is. I understand your worry, all of you, but I can't sit by and do nothing. You are all dismissed." The round table meeting stood in unison, bowed, and left to go on their ways. Gwaine tapped Percival on the arm, and shook his head towards an open room.

"She'll go whether we want her to or not, so we might as well make sure she's safe." Gwaine said as he shut the door behind them. Percival, a man of few words, nodded, but his brow creased nonetheless. "What's the issue?"

"The note said alone. What if he uses magic to scout the area and we end up putting the queen in danger instead of saving her from it?"

"That, mate, is why we're going to enlist some unconventional help." The smirk on the knight's face was contagious. Percival didn't bother telling Gwaine that he never agreed to come; he would've followed the knight anyway.

By daybreak the next morning, Gwen had saddled her horse and rode from the city gates, a cloak wrapped around her to protect from the chill. She stopped when she hit a large clearing, and decided to rest there. She didn't know when Lester would appear, or how he would even know, but Guinevere was a patient woman. She had not noticed the two figures following her on foot, for which both were glad.

It was almost an hour later that the ex-servant crossed into her field of vision, walking steadily and with a light gait.

"I hadn't expected you to come so soon. You didn't strike me as impulsive, but I suppose even I can be wrong." The man was no longer bumbling, nor clumsy. The shaking of the new-servant-come-to-Camelot act was shed; he was confident in his position. Gwen swore she could feel the rage burning, and she was glad there wasn't a sword in her hand or she didn't think she would be able to stop herself from running the boy through where he stood.

"Why did you kill Merlin?"

"Merlin? Not 'why did you kill my husband, the king'? You inquire after a servant first."

"I know why you killed Arthur, you made it clear in the note you left, what doesn't make sense is why you killed his servant and a dearest friend of mine. You had your revenge, why take it a step further?"

"I didn't. I didn't even know he was dead, but-"

"What do you mean you didn't? He was run through with a dagger, same as my husband: directly through the heart." Gwen watched as Lester's eyes wandered, as if chasing shadows. He swallowed a few times, sweat beginning to bead on his brow. Gone was the confidence, replaced by an almost sheepish expression.

"I promised you answers." It was a statement, blandly noted.

"That you did, where are they?" Guinevere was becoming impatient the man dropped his head into his hands and began shaking. She repeated, "Where are my answers?"

"I swear to you I didn't kill Merlin- I liked Merlin, really! I don't know who did kill him, I just don't know, but I can tell you that it wasn't me. I had no intention of killing anyone until I was contacted. I didn't have a choice after that."

"Everyone has a choice, you just chose the evil way, the easy way. Who contacted you?" Gwen was relentless in her interrogation.

"You won't believe me."

"Try me."

Back behind the tree line, Gwaine and Percival stood with their backs against the trees and their ears attentive. Percival had let Gwaine go get the 'unconventional help' alone, and didn't ask questions when the other man brought back magical amulets. The normally drunken knight was quite sober for this. In fact, Gwaine had been sober since his last major drinking spree, which had started directly after he found Merlin and didn't end until several days later. Percival had tried to convince him out of drinking himself until it killed him, and the knight had finally complied.

Neither of them believed the tale Lester was spinning, let alone his insistence that he didn't kill Merlin. Gwaine remembered finding Merlin, remembered his vows.

The king had been found, the bells tolling, grieving, resounding around the silenced halls. The knight immediately rushed back down to the dungeons. Merlin would know what to do. Merlin always had a plan, and never before had he let princess down. Gwaine had no reason to believe that this time was any different, though even in his heart he knew the loyal servant couldn't fix death. Yet that could never stop hope.

When he saw the figure slumped in the corner of the cell and no guards to be seen, he shouted.

"Merlin! Princess needs you, and I don't give a damn what anyone thinks, I'm breaking you out." But the figure didn't stir. "Mate, did you hear me?"

Nothing, not even a twitch. Red seeped along the creases of the floor, oozing its slow way downward. Gwaine busted the lock and stormed in, stopping just short of Merlin.

Blood, so much blood. It was the same scene, the same plot, the same ending with a different character. Merlin lay dead on the floor, a clean line through his heart. Slumping next to him, Gwaine cradled his truest friend against him. Who could be so cruel to hurt Merlin? The man was a joy wherever he went. Then and there, Gwaine vowed he would avenge his friends.

A sinking feeling wormed its way into his mind. Like a snake in the grass, it slithered into his thoughts. What did it matter anymore? What had Gwaine left to live for? Even as the sickly doubt surfaced, it was already being destroyed. He knew the answer.

Said answer was currently getting quite upset with her husband's killer. Lester had uttered a name, but both Gwaine and Percival missed it. When Gwen spoke up quickly, it appeared to them that she either missed it as well, or didn't quite believe him.

"I'm sorry, who?"

"Persephone. She wanted Merlin sentenced to death."

"Persephone? The goddess?" Percival didn't think Gwen's voice could hold more incredulity.

"Yes, she wanted Merlin alive, but she wanted him to be accused of killing King Levi, something to do with a demigod- I don't know! It's not like she told me much. All I had to do was make sure he was tried and found guilty, and I was given just enough information to do so. Killing Arthur safely was my reward, so to speak. I was promised his head in return for Merlin's sentence." He looked guilty, in such light, of telling the truth. The weariness of a man full of secrets melted away, and the queen couldn't tell if he was lying anymore.

"Why should I believe you? You killed my husband, and surely there was some way you would've benefited from killing Merlin as well."

"Believe me because Persephone didn't want Merlin dead, of that she was adamant about. If someone killed him, it was someone against her, of whom I am not. I didn't do it, she didn't do it, so there's someone else out there, and if I were you, I'd stop looking; getting involved with the gods' disputes is a good way to get killed."

Persephone herself was furious when she found out that the boy was dead. She had everything planned out, everything ready. She had her father backing her and the rest of the gods with him. Despite everything, Hades had still managed to steal away his child. Didn't he realize how much she loved him, how devoted she was? He never appreciated her, and she would make sure he began to. Maybe he was just testing her.

They had buried the bastard's body, but she could force life back into it, make the boy's soul return. That's how she'd get him, how she'd show Hades not to deny her, but she would need to act quickly.

Perhaps the girl that the boy had been friends with could be of use.


	10. Chapter 10

Gwen, in a somber mood, returned to the castle. If Lester hadn't been so adamant, she would still be cursing his lies. There was something about the boy that had her believing the pathetic tale he had woven. And yet what goddess of life would demand death?

It was with these thoughts turning in her mind that she entered her new chambers, seeing as the one she would normally live in were too painful to bear.

"Hello." A sing song voice called to her, ringing a melody in its wake. Plants wove around her room, vines along the walls and bed posts while flowers occupied the windowsill. There was no mistaking who the beautiful woman sitting on a giant flower could be.

"Hello." Gwen could think of nothing else to reply with. It appeared that Lester hadn't been lying, though whether Persephone was to be trusted was still another matter.

"You must be shocked, I know." So much sadness, so much empathy in one sentence, Gwen felt like she was drowning. Fighting to keep a clear head, the queen found focus with great effort. "After hearing so many terrible lies about me, I'd be shocked as well."

"How do I know they were lies?" Gwen bit back. For a moment she wondered if that was the appropriate reaction, but then decided she didn't care. If Persephone was on her side, then her empathy would play true. If not, perhaps a temper could out her. Either way, Gwen would censor nothing, if just to stay afloat.

"You must be so confused, being told different things, so I will tell you the truth, and make you an offer."

"I want to know who killed Merlin." Gwen didn't even want to know whatever version of the truth Persephone wanted to tell her, but she did want to know this.

"That I will not hide. Who is your dear friend's killer? That poor boy who could only really love? You have Hades to thank for his death." Gwen contemplated what Lester had told her. Traitor or not, he was no doubt right about interfering with disputes of the gods. It was with no little amount of caution, and a great amount of fear, that Guinevere continued her inquiry. She was a queen, and she could handle this.

"What offer would you make me that could right anything?"

"Your husband, back and alive. If you take me to his body, I will return him to you. In exchange, I want Merlin. Yes, there is a reason, but I cannot tell you or it will endanger everything. Please you must trust me! Your husband's death is on my hands, for that I am truly sorry, but I will right that at least." Such sincerity, Gwen could picture herself back at the clearing, but there was a better image she could conjure. This was no different than a council meeting: false pleas, half-truths, and all personal gain.

"And what will become of Merlin?"

"I do not know, but I don't wish him dead either. Not like this, not at Hades' hands." Gwen pondered her choices, and understood what Lester meant about not having a choice. Persephone demanded a decision though, and Gwen wasn't sure she wouldn't go ahead and take Merlin anyway.

With a heavy heart, the queen agreed.

Merlin could feel power coursing through him, and if his father was to be believed, it was barely the tip of a mountain of what he could do. Of course darkness had beckoned him; this deathly power was his to command. Black mist emanated from his hands, and he watched it change and morph as he turned his wrists around.

Hades had decided he would unbind Merlin the same way he had bound him: bit by bit, day by day. Time was always against them, and all there knew it, but this was the safest way for Merlin to regain status, but remain sane. Arthur was severely uncomfortable about all of it.

Not only had his friend been essentially a god, but he had been hiding magic for years. Albeit, the magic had been a lie to all of them, Merlin included, but the lack of trust still hurt. The only thing soothing it was the selfish thought that Merlin was going through the same whirlpool of emotions regarding his father. Wow that was still weird to think about.

Arthur was a grown man, but in the sight of that immortal, he still felt like a child.

Merlin, once he had gotten over the terrible feeling of abandonment and betrayal, basked in his father's attention and approval. During the second week, he had sought out Balinor. Hades hadn't forbidden it. In fact, he showed support despite the slight look of hurt in his eyes. Arthur could read his eyes as if they were Merlin's, the similarity so striking, yet also very nerve-racking.

Balinor had smiled at the sight of Merlin, but also bowed in reverence to remind them both of their respective statuses there.

"There was a time I had thought to call you father."

"There was a time I had been tempted to call you son, but Gaius held the position to do that far better than I, or even your true father. He cared for you well."

"Gaius, or Hades?" Balinor gave a bittersweet smile.

"Both."

Merlin desperately wished he could see his mother. Hades could swear up and down he didn't have one, but Merlin's heart told him that Hunith would always hold that place, blood or no blood. When he had expressed this to his father, the grim god smiled wide, and said it was time for his newest appointed member to come home.

"I don't want her to die!" Merlin had gasped, but Hades simply laughed.

"She had already been dead, her true born son with her. It's time she found him as well." That had been a fact Merlin had not known, and his heart ached for the woman he loved so dearly, and the child that should've been instead of him.

"Do not mourn for the dead, Merlin. They all end up where they deserve. The ones who cause hell for the living find this place to be hell. The ones whom life had wreaked havoc upon find peace. Of this I promise them." Merlin nodded in agreement, but his father hadn't been finished. "Of this you will also promise them."

Merlin's head snapped up quickly, his neck creaking with the sudden effort. Hades found himself again laughing, an action that only his son- no, he thought, glancing in the direction where his brother was last- his family could cause him.

"You are my son and heir, surely you understand what comes with that. And, if we win, someone will have to take the throne of Olympus. I could hand it over to Poseidon, but neither of us like that thought. So I suppose you can choose: ruler of the underworld, or ruler of Olympus?" Smirking, Hades left his son standing gaping as he meandered back to the throne room.

His brother was already there waiting for him, and they had many things to discuss.

Gwaine had sworn to avenge Merlin, and while Percival returned to the castle, still trailing after Gwen, he could not be persuaded so. Following the tracks that Lester hadn't bothered to hide, Gwaine stalked him for weeks. They had finally entered Alereon when Lester had shown signs of slowing. What he hadn't expected was for what seemed to be an entire druid encampment to stop the ex-servant in his path.

"Let me pass." Even with Lester's tone, the statement couldn't be interpreted as anything other than a request.

"Emrys and the Once and Future King are dead." An accusation. Gwaine inched forward. A druid startled him by tapping on his shoulder. Looking around, there were druids surrounding the entire clearing. The peaceful sorcerer merely smiled knowingly, nodding and making room for Gwaine to stand next to him.

"I do not understand."

"Of course not. Emrys, the most powerful warlock to ever, and that will ever, walk this earth, and his king to be reincarnated, are both dead."

"I don't know what this has to do with me-"

"You murdered Arthur Pendragon and brought death to his servant. Understand?" Gwaine watched as the previously peaceful druids began to mumble on anger. The one next to him leaned lower as to whisper.

"We all want justice for your friends, as they were our hope." Gwaine couldn't get passed the insinuation that Merlin was an all-powerful warlock. There was a tense silence that lasted for a long time as Lester took a careful evaluation at his surroundings. Beautiful woods were shimmering, not with wind, but earthen cloaks and the hum of angry magic. And yet, it was wind that separated the silence and broke through the tension. Druids fled to the tree line as a mighty dragon landed before them all.

Gwaine thought the day couldn't get any crazier, but then the dragon had to open its maw and talk.

"I have stayed silent in many matters, but this is one I cannot. Merlin was as much as my friend as you, but more. He was kin." The deep, rough voice of the beast startled Gwaine, who had reached for his sword when the dragon landed and unsheathed it as it opened its mouth. Yet the others were not so affected, except perhaps for Lester, whom Gwaine enjoyed watching squirm. One man, the obvious chieftain of this group, stepped forward and bowed politely.

"The loss of not only a dragonlord, but the last dragonlord, is not so easily forgotten."

"And that is where I must correct you. Merlin is no mere dragonlord. Are all of you aware of whom our true master is?" Murmurs once again rose up amongst the trees, as if the forest itself was alive.

"We know only rumors of which beast belongs to which god, though perhaps many could guess the creator of the mighty dragons."

"Merlin is Hades' son, and death does not mean he is lost in the slightest." The finality of the dragon's statement rang through the sill air like bells, but Gwaine had barely a moment to think before a shout challenged the dragon.

"The gods have no care for their children!" It was Lester who spoke up, and the forest was silenced. Not a leaf rustled as the dragon stared down the murderer. Tempting as it was, Gwaine couldn't find it in himself to break the overbearing lack of noise.

"Hades does, and Merlin is no demigod. He is my lord's true heir, and a godling in his own right." The more Gwaine heard, the more astounded he was. Merlin was his best mate, but how much had he kept from him? Then again, how much had Merlin known in the first place? "Destiny here means little to the immortals. Even Emrys then is not bound by these rules. His death was at his father's hand, who more called him home than brought him true harm. Arthur too, then, will be reconciled with him in death." The dragon once again spoke directly to the sorcerer.

"What you did was despicable and atrocious, and I will make sure that if Strength doesn't kill you, I will do it. You have brought an enemy to my kin and my lord's doorstep, and endangered those I serve. Know this, filth. It is better for you to accept your fate at the end of a sword than to escape it and find my fire. Death will hold no peace for you either." With a roar and pulsing beat of heavy wings, the dragon took off again, and all eyes were attuned to the sky. Gwaine glanced towards his target, having easily recognized what the dragon had meant by strength.

Lester was crying silently.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur was gone.

There had been no sign of him for days, not a trace left. His father held a grimace when Merlin inquired on what could’ve happened to him. It took several attempts to pry the answer from him.

“I fear our enemy has done what to him what I was worried would be done to you. In Arthur’s case, however, it isn’t such a terrible thing. It does, however, piss me off.”

“You mean-?”

“Arthur is alive again, yes. Persephone must have revived him from his body.”

“Why wasn’t I?”

“As soon as you were buried, and your powers released here, your mortal body turned to dust, replaced by the elements of the earth of which it was made. You are more real here than you were ever in that realm. She can’t revive you from dust, but she stole the Pendragon’s soul out from under my nose.”

“And here I didn’t think you liked Arthur?” Merlin smiled, but Hades merely shook his head.

“It’s the principle of the thing. Once dead, no mortal is to return without my permission, and even then it is rare I ever give it. Hunith and Balinor were such exceptions. Arthur was not. She’s spitting in my face.”

With the thought of Arthur living again, Merlin was wonderfully happy. Even if his father was mad and the action was of the enemy, the godling couldn’t help but send a mental thanks to Persephone. She didn’t realize how much motivation she had given Merlin; he had someone to fight for again. The sooner the whole fiasco was over, the sooner the pretend warlock could return to his home and destiny.

“Today, son, you are going to learn how to fight.”

“Is that wise? I mean, I’m not exactly good with a sword- “

“Who said you’d use a sword? I think a battle scythe will suit you better. You might get to train our reapers one day, might as well learn now then.” Merlin paled. He’d trip over his feet and impale himself in no time, he was sure of it. At least Arthur wouldn’t be there to tease him about it. “Before you can worry about things, you’re a god, Merlin. No longer bound to a human body, you’ll find you sense of flow and grace now. You were always too powerful for a mortal body; something had to be sacrificed.”

Maybe his father didn’t know him too well after all if he thought there was any ounce of gracefulness in the servant’s body.

 

Morgana seethed from her throne. She had taken refuge in the old ruins of a castle, the same that her pitiful brother had when he first had gathered around the Round Table. A messenger had arrived several minutes ago, and Morgana had finally slouched on the throne. Her black dress was ripped and ratty, and her hair was a mess. Her eyes shone with hungry greed, unhindered by her appearance. She was as fearsome as always, and no one had to guess who commanded the most authority.

“Speak.” She drawled.

“Both Arthur Pendragon and his servant are dead.” Despite the fear, the boy had spoken clearly. Morgana straightened in her seat, now giving the poor young man her full scrutiny, dark and dangerous. The gleam in her eyes had changed to allow for some bitter glee and cautious suspicion.

“If you are lying to me, the consequences shall be great.”

“I swear, my Queen. It is true.”

Morgana gave a great smirk, and waved over her own personal crow-keeper.

“Get out word to the druids, to the Catha, to every kingdom. Camelot is mine, and this time, there shall be no brave king to stand in my way, nor his loyal servant.” Addressing the messenger again, she inquired further, “What finally did my dear brother in?”

“A sorcerer who had infiltrated as a servant plunged a dagger into both of their hearts. He escaped with his life.”

“Pity it wasn’t by my hand. No matter, I’ll hunt this man down and… thank him for his help. And the servant girl who warmed his bed?”

“She still sits on the throne, and follows her husband’s example.”

“No matter, she cannot stop me. Emrys will be so devastated, to learn of his precious Arthur’s death. He will be too preoccupied with grief to protect Gwen properly. This information was useful; your death will be swift then.”

“Milady! I swear I-” But Morgana had already lifted her hand, and with a quick flick of her wrist, the boy’s neck was snapped.

“Prepare my army.” No one hesitated to move. Morgana was a terrifying force when angry, but hell hath no fury like her glee.

 

Gwaine drew his sword fully, it’s ring cutting through the thick tension. The dragon didn’t move, but it’s eyes shown with a mixture of glee and disappointment. He had been looking forward to roasting the murderer. Stepping into the clearing, Gwaine hesitated. Lester had the right to a trial, and it would be the right thing to take him back to Camelot. Yet, there was no king to return to, and it was this sod’s fault. Apparently that same thought was going through the sorcerer’s mind, as he spoke out almost as soon as he saw Gwaine.

“I have the right to a trial!” Despite shouting, his voice was so weak with fear. Instinctually, Lester muttered a spell to throw the knight back, but fear clouded his focus, and Gwaine barely felt the push at all; nothing was going to deter him.

“I don’t care. Which king would give you a trial anyway? Kings Levi and Arthur sure aren’t doing them anytime soon.” His sword was held at the ex-servant’s neck in a flash of silver, the point digging into the skin of the neck. Angling the sword slowly upward and pressing forward, Gwaine herded the man back into a tree, panic setting in as Lester’s back hit the bark with a thud.

“Please.” He begged.

“Think of it this way, I could drag you back and burn you. Or better yet, let the dragon do what he wishes. I think I’d much rather like to, though. I hope Hades throws you into his deepest pit.” Gwaine drove the point of the sword through his neck then, cutting through it like butter as blood spewed and the boy stuttered. Finally backing away, the corpse collapsed into the ground. The druids had been silent, but Gwaine felt his shoulder once again grasped gently, guiding him to turn around and face the chieftain.

“Thank you, Strength, but the magic of the earth still stirs, and I believe not all hope is lost. The Once and Future King may yet reign. Go to him, to his grave.”

“He’s alive? What about Merlin?”

“I do not know, but nor do I believe this to be the work of Hades. I fear what your king and queen have in store for them. Magic may be missing, but Courage needs you, more now than ever.” The druid elder let him go, and the party retreated into the woods, blending in with the wild as if they were part of it. Mutely, Gwaine acknowledge that they were indeed just as wild, though significantly more peaceful as the rest of mother nature. The dragon left as well, disappearing into the horizon. Without another word, Gwaine rushed back, anxious to discover what the druids had felt.

 

Gwen cradled her husband’s head in her lap. Her beautiful purple dress pillowed around her as she knelt in the dirt, thankful more than ever that she had chosen to bury her dearest, instead of burn him as customary. Her eyes never leaving his face, Gwen pondered what to think about the goddess watching her display. Persephone had known where his and, by extension, Merlin’s bodies had lain. She didn’t have to bring Arthur back; she had chosen to.

“Why would you give me this?” Her question was no louder than the faint breaths coming from the king, but the woman heard her regardless.

“I am not all bad, and love is something I understand better than one might think. I, too, was parted from my beloved. I still am, but I hope to change that soon. That, you see, is why I needed Merlin.” That had Gwen look away, instead keeping Persephone in her sights. Nothing she had said sounded false, nothing evil besides an earnest desire to see her love flourish like a flower. Guinevere felt bad for ever thinking she was evil. Were her actions good? No, but the queen knew that people did bad things for innocent motives, and she would never justify the death of her husband in the first place. Something just didn’t add up though; another piece of the puzzle was still missing.

 “Isn’t Hades your husband? Why would Merlin help you, and why did the god kill him then?” Why was her friend so important all the sudden? Anyone could tell that Merlin had been hiding something, but his heart was always true. What could cause someone to desire such a loving individual harm? “It just doesn’t make sense. Why does Hades care about a servant?”

“Merlin is his son, but he isn’t mine.” No matter what Gwen asked afterwards, the goddess gave her no answer. Her thoughts were swirling incessantly. Merlin was a demigod? Quickly, however, it was replaced. Hades cheated on his wife. Gwen knew it was hypocritical, for she had done similar, though certainly not as serious, but she couldn’t help but empathize with the goddess. Her next words almost brought her to tears again. “Hades has made sure that I can’t bring him back, though.”

Arthur stirred slightly, but it was enough to refocus the queen’s attention. She needed to get him back to the castle, to safety. Her strength alone wasn’t enough though, and she refused to leave her husband unattended. She didn’t trust Persephone yet, despite not doubting her sincerity. Even Merlin being Hades’ son didn’t explain why the god would kill him, nor why Persephone could use him to reunite with him. With such a predicament, Gwen decided she would be content to wait until Arthur woke, no matter how long it would be.

It seemed, however, that she wouldn’t have to.  Gwaine broke through the clearing, sword drawn. He was running towards her, giving a suspicious glare to her ethereal companion. When he saw Arthur, he stopped in his tracks, the tip of his blade falling to the dirt. A humorless laugh escaped his lips.

“I guess the druids were right.”

“And whom would you be, sir knight?” The woman next to Gwen was regal and beautiful, her singsong voice matching her quaint, feminine features. Gwaine looked to his queen before answering the strange woman.

“Gwaine. And Strength, apparently. It depends on who you ask, or how drunk I am.” The smile didn’t slip off her face, but it certainly faltered.

“How charming.” She didn’t sound charmed.

Arthur coughed.

All attention immediately went on to the awaking king, his stirring obvious now. His eyes suddenly blinked open, shutting tightly as the light of the sun invaded them. Gwen allowed her husband to roll of her lap, but would not let him stand on his own. Though wishing to preserve his dignity, Arthur couldn’t muster the energy to stand, and had to be helped up by a pair of strong arms.

“Look who’s alive. How are you feeling Princess?” Gwaine teased, but it was shallow. His tone was wavering, and concerned. Gwen couldn’t speak.

“Oh, I don’t know, a bit like I’ve been dead.” Arthur wheezed. He wasn’t sure what to feel, other than shame at abandoning his friend when he most needed him. Eyes finally adjusting, he looked at each person there. Gwen, his wife, was expected. Gwaine was a nice surprise, and Arthur was thankful for his presence. The third, however…

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m Persephone, goddess of- “

“Get out.” Addressing a goddess that way probably wasn’t the wisest action, but Arthur was fed up with just about everything. She had the audacity to look offended. Even Gwen flinched back.

“Arthur.” His wife protested meekly.

“No, I want her gone. Now. I was dead, should be dead. I, hell, want to be dead.”

“Is Merlin a factor?” The goddess spoke, and Arthur never thought he hated someone so much.

“Hades might respect you better if you actually had the courage to threaten his son yourself, instead of sending daddy to do it.” Fury like no other suddenly coursed through her, and Arthur found himself flat on the ground. Reaching up to his face, his hand came away with blood where her nails ripped into him.

“How. Dare. You.” Each word was spat out, as if it caused her physical pain to speak. In that moment, it didn’t matter that her hair color was opposite, or her face rounded, or her voice high. Arthur saw the same madness as his sister. At least Merlin was safe from her for now.


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur picked himself slowly off the ground. He at first made to do so on his own, but Gwaine wouldn’t let him, muttering something about ‘princess pride’ and ignoring all protests from the king. When he was standing, his dearest Gwen brought her hand forward, tracing the air above the gouges. She began to cry, but not all of it was anger or sadness. Her husband was alive enough to bleed. It was sick, but it was all she could hold onto.

Persephone hadn’t moved, but the anger cooled to something akin to indifference. Gwaine glared at her as he supported Arthur, but he chose his words carefully.

“I came to report to you, milady, that Lester is dead.” Persephone didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. Arthur did.

“He deserved a trial.”

“Bluntly, Princess, there weren’t too many people around to offer one, and he was the cause of it.” Guinevere hummed to agree, though she was as displeased as Arthur. “If it makes you two feel better, I killed him swiftly before the dragon could.”

“Dragon?” Gwen quickly became concerned.

“Apparently, Merlin is much more important than we originally thought.”

As soon as Merlin’s name was mentioned, Persephone was gone, the scent of earth and plants only left.

“He’s Hades’ son, or at least that’s what she had said.” Gwen confirmed, waiving her free hand in the direction of the previously occupied space.

“Yes, but there’s more to it than that-”

“He’s a god.”

“Husband, you should save your breath,” Gwen began, but the look on the king’s face stopped her from protesting further.

“I need to talk, to explain. Merlin is Hades’ son, yes, but he’s a full god, not just a demigod. It’s what has everyone so upset. Hades hid him, apparently.”

“Hunith isn’t his mother?” Gwen thought of the lovely woman fondly, and wondered how she had ended up taking care of their friend.

“No, he doesn’t have one. Something about unconventional births, don’t ask me,” He added before Gwaine could make some comment. “I will say that Hades is an ally, and while terrifying, not a bad person. Persephone isn’t married to him, and he wants nothing to do with her. She was the one that made up the kidnapping story just to try and force his hand to marry her. He didn’t, and evidently she’s still quite upset.”

“I had a woman like that-”

“Is now really the time Gwaine?”

The trio made their way back to the castle, stares and gasps and screams following them as people noticed. The knights had been training hard, sweating away the guilt of failing their king, but dropped swords and to knees as the man himself bled in front of them.

“We need a round table meeting, and now.”

The room was filled. The center table had its usual occupants, sans the now two empty seats: Merlin and Lancelot. They didn’t bother Arthur as much as he thought they would. The rest of floor space was taken up by the nobles, old councilors, the librarian, the physician, and anyone who could fit. Nobody spoke aloud, but soft murmurs ricocheted off the walls and cut through the thick, hot air. Nobody came back from the dead, not really.

Someone finally had the audacity to speak that same thought aloud.

“You’re dead, and we all saw it. I wasn’t happy about it, but this is hypocrisy. Magic, I’m sure of it!” The older man was of his father’s era. Old enough to have taken part in the purge, but young enough not to remember much before it.

“It was a magic of sorts, but not from any mortal man. Persephone, the same woman who helped the sorcerer kill me, has brought me back. I agree with you, I should be dead. But I’m not, and I’m going to do everything in my power to do what needs to be done.”

“And what,” another voice joined in, “would that be?”

“Morgana has no doubt heard of my death, and I’ll be damned if she hasn’t arranged some sort of army. She wants this throne, and she thinks that right now, we are weak. She’s going to underestimate us, and that’s the best advantage that we have right now.”

 

Morgana found him within Iseldir’s camp, looking much more like a man than the little boy she remembered. Mordred recognized her instantly, despite the raggedness of her appearance. He nearly ran to meet her, gently moving around the mass of druids that had amassed to stop her from progressing.

“Mordred, how have you been?” Her voice was quiet, a great fondness behind it. No other living person would ever have it directed at them, not anymore.

“I’ve been well, but what of you?” His voice had deepened, and she drew him into a hug, as if bringing him closer would bring back the boy, would return innocence to them both.

“Better, now.” And she meant it.

The druid camp did not fight Morgana, nor did they prevent her from staying or deny her care, but they made their stance well known. She was not welcome there. Mordred understood why, knew that the woman who had rescued him long ago was lost, but seeing her was entirely different. Her voice still held kindness, even if her eyes descended into madness when they weren’t looking upon him directly.

“Arthur is dead, and there is no better time to seize Camelot than now. Not even Emrys will be able to stop me, not grieving as he is surely.” Morgana whispered frantically. She had taken Mordred aside to speak with him privately, to convince him to join her.

Mordred, however, had information that she did not. Arthur was not dead, not any longer at least, and Emrys was always a different story.

“Morgana, you must know that neither he nor Emrys are gone, are dead.”

“I don’t understand, I had spies sent to Camelot to check, the king is dead, along with the servant.”

“Emrys perhaps is not with us, but Arthur was brought back from the dead.” It was when Mordred said this that he realized that Morgana might have lesser information than what he thought.

“Do you know who Emrys is?” She would never press him, not violently at least, but it was then that she began to scare the young man. He had no love for Emrys in his early years, but Iseldir had spent time with him, teaching and showing the hardships of life, of decisions. He might not like Merlin, might not even fully understand him, but he was long past hating him, past the desire to kill.

“It was Merlin,” He more prayed than spoke, “I thought you knew, I’m sorry.”

 

 

Despite what was obvious overexertion for any normal person, Merlin wasn’t even breathing hard. Pain coursed through his hands and arms as he experimented with different weapons. His father had met him out in the courtyard, or the hellish equivalent. He had prepared a table of weapons, each forged from shadow and flame. The dark blades were almost indistinguishable from the hilts. Merlin had attempted the battle scythe, but his father’s prediction of gracefulness fell short, though not entirely untrue.

He found, however, that years of dodging made him quite decent with a dagger.

Left, right, backwards, Merlin had certainly stopped tripping over his own two feet. He did not, unfortunately, stop tripping over everything else. Longswords, scythes, pikes, and any long-range weapon found its way between him and the ground. Mid-range weapons didn’t fare much better. He didn’t have the warrior’s instinct, that spirit that could see a weapon as a perfect extension of his arm. Merlin, as hard as it was to admit, had spent so much time hiding in shadows, that the thief’s style suited him more. Get close, strike, then flee backwards to safety.

While it wasn’t quite what his father had hoped for, their plan evolved around this. There didn’t have to be some great battle, or at least not one Merlin participated in. There only needed to be one, decisive strike. It was that responsibility that rested on his shoulders, and he wasn’t sure if he was worthy of it.

Now, however, was hardly the time to think.

His father came at him with a series of weapons, sometimes changing mid battle. Now, however, it was a longsword. Merlin had a hard time dodging every strike, bringing his small dagger up to block when he couldn’t. He missed a few times, however, and the blade was hardly dulled. Hades felt bad, but they both knew that pain would teach quicker than without, and that there was no true harm being done. If Merlin could learn to fight through the physical and trust his immortality, he would be all the better for it. He healed nearly instantly regardless.

Poseidon could see how quickly the young man was improving. Though he might not resemble some of the other gods in terms of size and bulk, neither had Hades and he managed to be universally feared. He could easily see his nephew becoming so similar, yet there were distinct differences between father and son. While both had sharp wit, Hades was more cynical. Merlin had something he had never obtained, and that was hope. It showed through his blue eyes, their sparkle not lost for centuries of pain and rejection. Through the son, the father too began to change. Watching his brother slip into such a carefree mood with the boy had Poseidon wondering why anyone would ever think his purpose that of a weapon.

The ocean smell still reverberated off him, but for all the time spent in the underworld, the moist, earthy scent of cave and metal were overtaking it.

“Brother?” Poseidon called out as he approached the two, leaving his spot from the doorway. He hated to interrupt, but it was necessary. Merlin, however, seemed relieved.

“What do you need?”

“To go home, for one. I’ll be there when you need me, but our brother has not yet noticed my absence, and I’d rather keep it that way.”

“Please do.  I’ll keep you informed.” Hades glanced at his son, then made some unknown decision, “I’ll come with you for a bit, for there is one other thing we must discuss.”

Given the chance to rest, Merlin wandered his would’ve been home. He ran his hands over the bumpy but smooth bricks, heading ‘outside.’ The ceiling of the cavern was too far to see, if it existed at all. It wasn’t a red glow of fire that encompassed the realm, but rather a misty grey. It was cold, but refreshing, and the little light reflected off gleaming crystals and metals embedded deep in both the castle like structure and the ground.

It was an ominous place, but it was also stunningly beautiful.

There was a chill through his body that wasn’t from the mist. Death was everywhere, but somehow this was more malevolent, somehow worse. Merlin found it a familiar feeling: the dorocha. Unlike before, he knew who he was, and what he could do. The Cailleach had no power over him. Pressing forward, Merlin a gateway of sorts. The cold iron spiraled upwards, no fence around it and nothing appearing through it. Yet when Merlin graced a finger through it, a ripple appeared.

Voiced could be heard on the other side. It wasn’t the terrifying screech of the dorocha, but human and sad. Merlin crossed through. No longer were the spirits mere ghastly faces shrouded in white, but took on shape and form, solid but wavering somehow. It was the expressions on their faces that almost brought the expressive young man to tears. It was pure misery, loneliness mixed with an indescribable sadness. They parted for him as he walked. All except one. The whispers of human agony took on a word.

“Merlin.”

“Lancelot.”


	13. Chapter 13

Merlin reached out for his long-lost friend, his fingers falling just short of the almost pale figure, afraid that if he touched him, there would suddenly be nothing there. Lancelot didn’t give him the chance to hesitate any more, pulling Merlin into a very physical, very real hug. Crushed against the other man, Merlin fought tears. This wasn’t a fate someone like Lancelot could ever deserve. The same anguish had been on the noble man’s face until he had spotted Merlin, and the godling was determined to free him from it. So determined then, he almost missed when Lance pulled back, a puzzled look across his features.

“Why are you here? Arthur didn’t- what happened?”

“In a way, Arthur did, but not for magic. It’s a long story, my friend, and one I’d rather tell after I’ve gotten you out of here.”

“I’ve always admired your ability to do the impossible, but the Cailleach won’t let me just leave, and there’s nowhere I could go here.”

“She will listen to me, and father won’t mind, I don’t think.”

“Father?”

“Like I said, long story.”

Merlin clasped Lance’s shoulder, before leading him towards the doorway. Almost invisible from this side, the iron spirals seemed to waver from existence as they got closer. Abruptly, is was cut off from view as the Cailleach met them.

“You think you can take any soul from here?”

“Do you believe your authority in this place greater than mine?” Merlin didn’t know where the sudden arrogance was coming from. Well, feeling the power coursing through him and the knowledge of who he was certainly had an impact, but he would have to make sure not to be a prat about it. Lancelot merely looked between the two, his mind racing to figure out his friend’s plan.

“No, but I won’t be happy about this.” Merlin could see that her eyes matched those of the souls around them. She was lost, lonely, and sad just as much as her prisoners.

“What does make you happy? Because it’s obviously not these people. They’re just as miserable as you, and no matter how many you acquire, you aren’t satisfied.” Merlin’s voice was soft, but the words were hard. It was a question that the Cailleach rarely got, and never knew how to answer. Perpetual loneliness and a fear of abandonment had shaped her into the ugly creature she knew herself to be, yet it was this that made her useful, that prevented anarchy in the world of the living. It was her selfishness that made people pause before tearing a rift into Hades’ realm. This boy, no matter who his father was, had the audacity to question what had prevented chaos for millennia?

“What do you care, whether I am happy or not?”

“Because no one deserves this misery, not even the one who inflicts it.” She could only see endless kindness in the young man’s heart, and it only served to make her more uncomfortable, angrier.

“Don’t pity me! Your father may protect you, perhaps even allow this,” she waived her hand towards Lancelot, who wisely was staying quiet as he watched his friend and captor quarrel. “But don’t ever think that he will place you above order, above the decisions that he himself makes.”

“Why are you afraid of being alone?”

“Don’t act like you see through me. I remember when you were still more human than god. When my spirits almost destroyed you and you trembled at my feet.”

“Why don’t you allow yourself to be happy?”

“Stop it!”

“These people will never be what you’re looking for. The price for opening the gate shouldn’t change, I don’t argue that, but hoarding the souls in misery here isn’t the solution. Let them be judged fairly.”

“Your father-”

“Is already initiating change. You don’t think he will let me take charge of things here, yet he admits from his own mouth that I am his true heir, and that should we complete our task, this realm might become mine. I need to know how everything works, and this isn’t an injustice I will allow to stand. What makes you happy, Cailleach? What sates your misery? What can I do to help _you_?”

She broke. The age faded away, changing the hag to a weathered woman smelling of every season at once. Smoke and earth of fall mixed with bitter cold wet of winter. The breeze of pollen and life of spring mingled with the scorching hot waves of summer. She seemed to be different every second, hair turning white, then green, brown and pink and every shade. Her eyes, too, were ever changing.

“I want to be free of this place.” Her voice was indescribable, “Persephone brought me here as a gift to Hades, hoping that I would sway his heart towards her. I was her handmaiden, the seasons my creation, and instead I am here. Persephone wasn’t the one trapped, I was. She betrayed me, and while I have no love for her, I see no justice here. Take the soul you want to save, take them all even, but you’ve pressed me too far to back out now, and I will hold you to your word. Free me, and only then will I believe you to be just.”

“I promise, and I won’t take more than him until I free you.”

Hades found his son conversing with a lost soul, back home safely, and looking content. The other man, however, was growing more and more disturbed by the second. He hid it well, enough to fool Merlin, but the growing unease was obvious to Hades. He wanted to comfort the young man, to be there for him, but he couldn’t do that until he came to terms with how powerful Merlin. Souls were easy to read when you specialized in them.

“And who might you be?” He finally stepped forward, interrupting whatever Merlin was vibrantly describing with words and hands and eyes.

“Oh! This is Lancelot. He’s a good friend of mine,” Hades did remember the man, now that he thought. He was noble, but to an almost masochistic point. “I found him with the Cailleach, which I need to speak with you about.”

“Oh?” The Cailleach never let a soul go without contest, and while Hades knew she didn’t dare raise a hand against her son, not after last time, he still wondered what had happened.

“Can she be free? Return to the living and reign over seasons like she used to?” The naïve optimism never failed to warm Hades heart, but it didn’t mean he could always indulge it.

“She maintains order here, a punishment for those who think they can break my laws.”

“Yes, yes I understand that, but can’t the price be maintained without hoarding the souls that are used for it? They can be judged fairly, can’t they? And then they wouldn’t be miserable unless they deserved it, wouldn’t be punished for things sometimes out of their control.”

“Perhaps.” Hades began, but Merlin gave him no time to elaborate.

“Then she wouldn’t be needed anymore, and she could go free!”

“Persephone would do terrible things to her if she was.”

“I know who our real target is, and that she’s a secondary one, but if we take her down, doesn’t somebody have to take over for her?”

Hades sighed. There would be many places to fill if they won.

 

Arthur had a hard time adjusting to being alive again. People stared at him with caution and fear, but rarely joy. Gwen had come to terms with his death, and to have him back was both a joy and an uncertainty. They no longer shared a room, not after Arthur had spoken to her in private.

“I just wanted you to know, while I will always love you, you are no longer bound to me by law. Our vows were until death parted us, and it did. If you wanted to pursue someone else, I wouldn’t stop you.”

“How could you say that, Arthur? You’re here, and I love you.”

“I don’t think I’ll be here much longer. I should be dead, Guinevere. I’m not going to try and cheat fate. Camelot must go on, whether I am on its throne, or another of your choosing.”

“I would choose no other.” Gwen began to cry, and while Arthur wiped the tears from her face, it didn’t stop him from pressing further. It hurt, but she had to understand.

“You have before, and one day you will need to again. Things are happening beyond our control, and somehow, I have a feeling I won’t survive Morgana without Merlin by my side. If I must die to remove her threat once and for all, then I will without hesitation.”

“Promise me one thing Arthur.”

“Anything I think I can keep.”

“Let it be a true Pendragon who sits on the throne when we are both gone.” Arthur wouldn’t deny her that, but when she was declared pregnant, they would no longer share a room.

It wasn’t a week later that the warning bells rang. Morgana’s army had been spotted, and they were almost at the border. They outnumbered them, and Arthur knew that a siege would cause too much death. He would meet them head on, knowing that he had nothing to fear, sparing those who could revel in the peace he would never see. Calling upon the round table, efforts were begun to mobilize Camelot’s forces. They would meet at Camlann.

 

Mordred had snuck into Camelot’s camps late at night. They were still travelling towards the narrow fields, but he had to speak with Arthur. Confused and conflicted, he needed to understand Camelot’s king to make his true decision. Even armed with destiny’s knowledge, with the foresight to see his part, he couldn’t justify it without this meeting.

He made it as far as the inner circle of the camp before he was spotted. A sword was placed at his neck, and Mordred let himself be handled roughly, complaint as he was shoved to the ground to kneel. The man who had him looked like a mercenary, and had it not been the cloak around his shoulders and the mail around his body, Mordred would never had thought him a knight.

“And who do we have here?”

“My name is Mordred, and I seek a private and confidential audience with King Arthur.”

“I’m sure, and that’s why you were sneaking around like a thief. What do you really want.”

“Let him go, Gwaine. I know him.” Arthur had awoken at the voices, and made his way towards the two. Addressing the young man, his voice got softer, “How have you been, Mordred. It’s been a long time.”

Mordred was baffled. It was the same concern, the same words even, of the man’s sister. Did he know? Did she? They were so similar around him, it spun his head in circles. Yet missing was the madness of Morgana, for Arthur had no trace of it. Easy confidence oozed from him, radiating from a man who knew what laid before him and feared none of it. Mordred wondered if Arthur knew what part he would have in his death, and if he would still speak so kindly to him if he did.

“I am well, but I need to speak with you.”

“If you’re here to warn me of Morgana, we already know.” Arthur said dryly. Gwaine snorted, but also removed the sword point from Mordred’s neck. That was an improvement, at least. “Leave us, Gwaine. I trust him, and he’s a druid regardless, peaceful.”

“Well that does explain the sneaking around.” And Gwaine let them be. They moved into Arthur’s tent, and Mordred knew what he had to say.

“I don’t know who to fight for.”

“Who says you have to fight at all. I understand, though. Morgana helped you more than I did, but you must believe me when I say she isn’t the same person. That Morgana is dead.”

“Not when she speaks to me.” Arthur looked up sharply. Torn between disbelief and jealousy, that it was the druid boy who could restore his sister, even if only some, and not her brother.

“I’m not sure how to respond to that.” If anything, death made Arthur admit his shortcomings more easily than before. It wounded his pride some, but no longer did that rule him. “I’m glad, of course, that she can find some peace in this world, but it isn’t enough to stop her, that much is obvious. Whatever glimpse of the past you might receive from her, it’s just that: the past.”

“Yet it’s my destiny to kill you, at Camlann.”

“Good, someone has to do it.” Mordred was shocked. It wasn’t the reaction he had expected, nor one he had even considered. Seeing his slacking face, Arthur elaborated, “I should be dead, and I need to be, want to be almost. I love being alive, given a second chance, but I don’t deserve it. I’m going to win this war, right the wrongs that I can, but I don’t want to live longer than I need to. Guinevere is pregnant, my sister will be gone, seeds of peace have been sown, and magic will be freed. But I won’t live to see it to fruition. So fulfill that destiny, Mordred, and please us both. Just don’t harm anyone else.”


	14. Chapter 14

Blood was being spilled all around him, but Mordred paid no attention to it. He had a mission, and he moved with purpose through the battlefield. The two armies had met early in the morning, the first clash just after dawn. Morgana stayed back for the most part, but would venture out of the back lines and strategy tents to throw deadly magic at the opposing force. Mordred was glad that she wasn’t consistent, or Camelot would be having a harder time. Morgana’s forces were greater, however, and the tide of the battle was consistently in the witch’s favor.

Camelot would not go down easy, though. The Catha priests had joined the battle around noon, choosing Arthur’s side. Every time Morgana would attempt another strike, the priests would hold her back with all their power, reducing or preventing the damage. The small white dragon had been dwarfed by one much larger, and while they had more numbers, Camelot had better fighters. There was something Mordred could do to ensure that Camelot won, but he still had his mission.

He moved consistently, eyes scanning the men around him. Swords would fly his way, but he parried and dodged them with ease thanks to his magic. He had promised Arthur he wouldn’t harm anyone else, and he was keeping that promise. The blur of the battle threatened to consume him, the dizzying movement and rhythmic steel clashes dancing all around. Shouts of command, pain, anger, and fear drowned out most of his thoughts. He moved forward still, black armor contrasted against red blood and banners.

It wasn’t hard to pick out the moment the battle turned tide. The druids had arrived, reinforcing Arthur’s back lines, split between healing the wounded and casting protection spells on the soldiers standing. Swords began to contest with magic, and even the few magical fighters under Morgana had a hard time against the full force of the druids and Catha together. It wasn’t a sudden rush, but the banners of the witch slowly began to recede back. If she was smart, Morgana would call a retreat, take out the forces individually or wait for their differences to make enemies of allies. Like usual, her rage won over her mind and she joined the battle screaming once more, but it was already lost.

Mordred could do one thing for them all. When she joined next to him, golden eyes and shaking fists, he turned to greet her.

“The battle is lost.”

“Hush Mordred,” She grew softer, lifted a hand to caress his face, streaks of blood smeared by her deceptively delicate fingers. “We can win this. These traitors mean nothing, not if we’re together.”

The sword entered her swiftly through the heart, the pain and betrayal not registering for a few short seconds. When it did, for once, it wasn’t anger. Tears began to well, but she did not cry, too proud even in her dying moments.

“I’m sorry, but we aren’t together in this.” He gently laid her down, cradling her to him. When she took her last breath, the hate had finally faded.

But Mordred wasn’t finished.

His previous allies saw his betrayal, but so Camelot’s forces, who now inspired, found energy pumping through once weary muscles. In a great surge, they broke through the lines. In odd irony, Mordred mused that the side with strongest magic did win, and it wasn’t Morgana. The angry men around him retreated before they thought of tearing him down, the men rushing at them more important than the traitor standing amidst it all. Without a true leader, they fled through the passage as magic and steel cut them down.

It wasn’t hard to find Arthur. He hadn’t stayed back like Morgana. The king had spent the entire battle on the front lines, enduring every blow, watching every man who fell and avenging them all in turn. Matted in blood and sweat, he looked all but royal. Mordred wanted to scream at the heavens, at destiny and fate, for making him the one to cut down a true wonder of a man. Arthur had noticed him around the same time, and strode forward to greet the young man, to greet his death in open arms.

When he spotted Morgana, the bright smile of victory and relief fell. It wasn’t anguish, it wasn’t even sadness or disappointment. It couldn’t be named, the expression on his face. A blankness, as though catching up on everything, breathing in every detail as if to memorize and forget at the same time. Arthur knew he would never be free of her, not truly. She would meet her fate at the same hands he met his, and he doubted she would be happy with the identity of her tormentor.

“Do what you must, and then flee.”

“They will chase me and kill me if I do it here.”

“The druids and Catha know what I’m asking of you, and they will protect your retreat. I left a note with my seal and handwriting, as well as Gwen’s word, that this is what I wanted. They might not let you into the city, but you shouldn’t be hunted. I’ve done all I can for you, and now I need to do all I can for Merlin.”

As Mordred killed the last Pendragon, he knew that there would be no others like them.

The cheers of victory and weeping of joy slowly turned to silence, and then to cries of anguish and anger as the king’s body hit the gold earth. Mordred fled, the same tears and screams coming from his own lips as well.

Lancelot had a hard time adjusting to being a guest instead of a prisoner, though he didn’t quite favor either. Idle hands never suited him, and there was little he could do in the underworld, even with almost free reign. When he was young, it was a sword and a dream that drove him to train. When he was banished, it was a beautiful woman. When he entered the veil, it was to save a true friend, and to fulfil a promise. With no dream, no hope, and certainly no fair maiden, Lancelot found himself drawing a blank on what to do.

He and Hades might’ve thought that Merlin was clueless, but if there was anyone who understood hiding true insights, it was the godling himself. He watched as his good friend and secret-keeper aimlessly explored the vast castle, the courtyard, and even venturing beyond the gates sometimes, yet there was nothing to tether him. He was still lost and miserable, but just in a more comfortable cage.

Merlin hated it. If there was anything of him that had been fearsome before he came to true power, it was his righteous fury. Hades was beginning to see it in him increasingly as his son discovered more about the realm. Nothing stayed his tongue when there was something to be said, and it was through it that Hades could see Merlin’s place in the pantheon. He could never be the harsh and stoic god of hell, but Hades would put him through one more test, just in case he was wrong.

Morgana arrived before Arthur did, as would be expected, so she was already waiting to be judged when her brother approached her.

“I see you died, again, brother.” Her tone was clipped, the words dripping from her cold sneer, but she didn’t have the bite she once had. She was afraid, almost more broken than before.

“Mordred killed me.”

“Run a sword through your heart like he did mine? That traitorous bastard!” She spat, but her arms had curled around her sides, sliding upwards as if to erase the memory and wound. Arthur could see only opportunity in her shattered self, opportunity to rebuild the strong woman he could be proud to call a sister.

“I asked him to. Kill me, that is. I want to be here, Morgana, and I don’t think you should fear too much.”

“Don’t you await judgement like any other? Or are you special, dear brother, to think that you are better than any here. We’re all equal in death.”

“I’ve already been judged, since this is my second, and hopefully more permanent, stay. There’s a surprise on the other end of that doorway, and I hope that you can accept that I wanted nothing less than to be your brother. I wish you would’ve trusted me, Morgana.”

“You would’ve turned me in, brought Uther-”

“Our father.”

“Uther! Upon my head.”

“You never gave me a chance, so who can say what would’ve happened?” Saying all he had set out to, Arthur traversed through the now familiar halls. He had his best friend to find.

“You will judge her.”

“I can’t!”

“You can, and you will.” Hades made several exceptions for his son, but this was one he would not make. Merlin needed to understand what being a god meant, and there was no better way than to throw him to the metaphorical wolves.

“I don’t know what I’m doing! What if I mess up, what if I don’t know everything? How can I judge fairly if I don’t understand?”

“Sit in that seat and open your eyes. You’ll see, truly see.”

And so, Merlin found himself occupying his father’s throne, a circlet of shadow steel adorning his head and a cloak of deep black set around him. He felt uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention, the person that people bowed to. That they kneeled to.

When the doors opened, Merlin had to fight the urge to close his eyes. They brought her in, head down and dress as unkempt as the last time he saw her. Despite the slits of fabric hanging around her heart, there was no sign of blood or death. She didn’t look up, even when they shoved her to her knees. Merlin could see the sneer on her face, but there were tears there as well, as if she was trying to hold onto a façade, the true confidence long gone.

“Morgana.” She didn’t recognize the voice at first, but the quietness, the shyness brought her head up by a fraction, before she remembered where she was. There would be no kindness here, where her sins and transgressions would be laid out plain. Merlin watched her head fall, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted her to see him or not. He was in power here, above her. She couldn’t touch him. Yet part of him still blamed himself for her becoming. It would be easier if she didn’t see.

“Look at me Morgana.” She shook her head, but slowly raised her eyes to meet his. When they met, any fight that she held onto fled her body, which slumped in defeat.

“Emrys.” It wasn’t hateful, spat out in contempt. It wasn’t even in awe or fear. It was in recognition, resignation, and above all, a grim respect. Like she knew she was already damned, but now it was beyond a doubt. He didn’t want to do this.

“Stand. You never knelt before anyone, and it’s not- it’s not you.” There was a please written on his tongue and held back by the stares of those around him. He understood Arthur even more, in that moment, the responsibility of power over others. Hesitantly, Morgana lifted herself off the cold floor as if by puppet strings. He had to see her, he knew. Truly see her soul, the pain and suffering, the happy and joyous. It was too much, but he had to.

He could see Morgause’s effect on her, the cracking of sanity and loyalty. He could see, almost detached, his own piece in the puzzle. He always knew he had chased her to her sister, but seeing with almost clinical precision, Morgana probably would’ve gone anyway. Merlin had felt that fear under Uther before, though perhaps not even acutely as her. Uther never would’ve hurt her, but Merlin knew that Arthur wouldn’t have harmed him for magic either. Both had still hidden or ran, because sometimes the judgement, the disappointment, of the ones you’re closest with are more painful than the axe or fire.

There was a small spark of hope within her that Arthur, with every soft word, had planted. He had watered it to bloom in the hallway, though perhaps Morgana herself didn’t realize what it was. She wanted to have a brother, to be family again. It wasn’t quite regret, but perhaps more akin to mourning that her desires, in those moments, overshadowed any love.

When Merlin caught sight of Arthur sneaking into the trail from a side passage, he knew what sentence to pass. It wasn’t unbiased, but it was true to him and his desires to help. Even Morgana deserved a chance for a happy ending. When he breathed deep to speak, her eyes once again closed.

“Morgana, for your decisions, you shall spend the rest of your days alongside your brother.”

“What?” Both Pendragon siblings said at once. Even Arthur had underestimated Merlin’s capability for mercy.

“All you wanted, Morgana, was family that loved and accepted you. By the time you realized you betrayed the ones who truly had, there was too much hate and distrust, too much history. You thought force would bring people to understanding, and while it wouldn’t, you never really wanted to murder Arthur, either. That was always Morgause’s aspiration.”

“I don’t need a family-”

“No, but you want one. So do you, Arthur. It’s the only chance you get to be happy here, Morgana, please accept that.”

“I hate you!”

“But you don’t hate Arthur.”

“Of course I do.” Though it sounded weak even to her. Tears ran down anew, and Morgana didn’t know if they were out of hope or frustration, or perhaps it was a bit of both. She screamed, but there were no windows shattering, no shaking of earth. Magic had to power here, and Merlin hoped it’s absence would finally bring the remnants of the Pendragon family together.


	15. Chapter 15

Lancelot wasn’t sure what the right answer was. He never had to face a decision where the morals were so ambiguous, so gray. Merlin had apparently spoken with Arthur beforehand, and he had agreed, though there was sure to be more to it than that. Chances like this didn’t come to men like him. They went to the heroes, the Merlins and Arthurs of the world.

And yet as Merlin laid out his options before him, Lancelot couldn’t decide what was right. Last time his heart told him one thing and his brain disagreed, his brain had won out. Now, however, there wasn’t any true jealousy to beat his heart into submission.

“You can go, Lancelot, truly it won’t upset me. I’ve made peace with everything, and Gwen is released from her vows. I know, and I knew when I was alive, that she never lost her love for you. I think, sometimes, that if you had still been alive, she would’ve chosen you.” Arthur had grasped his arm, as if to remind Lance that his suffering was over.

“Sire, I can’t.” Lancelot shook his head as his words fell lame. Arthur merely laughed.

“I’m not your sire here, Lance. That’d be Merlin.” The god in question cringed.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” The camaraderie lacked the hesitance it always had before, with social barriers and status out of the way. All three were at ease, and smiles came easily. It was finally the peace they all needed, or well, it was the steps towards it at the very least.

In the end, Lance knew that his heart, so long denied, would finally win out. He only hoped Guinevere would feel the same.

Walking into the gates of Camelot again, he was struck by just how truly different the city had become in his missing years. The people were sturdier, no longer cowering under Uther, but openly wary of newcomers and rugged from the turbulent turns of life. It was better, made them stronger. Morgana had made sure that every citizen of Camelot knew who she was and what she was capable of, and in the end, it backfired, creating a force almost more terrifying than any army: observant peasants ready to flee or fight at the slightest provocation.

When he walked through the gates, it was these people that met him. Eyes angry, their memories did not forget the Lancelot that had come back, the one he and Arthur had both learned of, the pretender. The trouble the witch had caused with that situation was horrendous, though he believed that it could be remedied. If Gwen believed him, that is.

He let the people poke and prod at him, glares following him as he meandered his way to the castle. They had mourning their king the night before, wax and candles yet burning littered everywhere. If Uther’s death made the people saddened and unsure, Arthur’s devastated. Hope was dying in the people, even as the seeds of peace were being sown.

It was a while before a familiar face finally stopped him.

“Leon?”

“I would be surprised, but it seems that a lot of people are in and out of death lately. You’ve done it before, why not again I suppose.” The older knight looked weary as well, but Lance could only smile. There was so much he had to gain again, so much he had to work for.

“It looks like life has treated you well.”

“I’m hard to kill.” Leon smiled wryly as he spoke, as if to some joke Lancelot wasn’t privy to. “Death has seemed to do the same to you.”

“Sometimes one looks happier when suffering is relieved, than when it was never there at all. I’d like an audience with the Queen, if possible.” Lancelot watched as Leon tensed, memory no doubt going back to what happened before.

“I’m not sure if that’s wise. I’d ask how are you here, but it’s not going to change the fact that you are. Why, though, are you here, Lancelot?”

“Because Merlin and Arthur send their regards, say that a life for a life is fair, that I was cheated, and that there is much Gwen has to know.” The stoic knight avoided eye contact, coming slowly to conclusion. When he reached whatever end he found appropriate, he nodded and gestured for Lance to follow. With much relief and a sigh, he took step slightly behind the knight.

The throne room was just as regal, though there was significantly less noise. Gwen sat on an ornate throne, but the true throne was left empty, pushed to the back a little so that hers stood out. She looked tired, but there was a glow to her, a hope. The small bump of her abdomen was becoming more obvious, and most of the whispers were of the child, and whether it would be a boy. He was brought forward while she was conversing with a few advisors, who seemed more intent on gaining influence than truly sending condolences for her loss, but as soon as she saw him, they were forgotten.

“Everyone out.”

Gwen was shocked, to say the least. He was no different than before, the same eyes and skin and kindness. She felt her heart sink again, as it had often been doing. Was there no peace for her? What god was behind her misery then? Before she could speak, he did.

“Arthur, and Merlin of course, send their love.” Her hand flew to her mouth and the few traitorous tears shed quickly. Regaining composure, she asked the question he had been met with again and again.

“Why are you here Lancelot?” Though her tone was full of kindness, there was a tired fear behind it. It hurt, though he understood why.

“Because they gave me the choice to come back, and I took it. That past me, the one that had come back before, was a shade of Morgana’s. I was never alive again, and you never betrayed Arthur, just enchanted to look as though you did.”

“But I didn’t feel enchanted, and I remember everything that happened, vividly. My actions were my own.” It had taken her a long time to come to terms with her mistakes, but she wasn’t about to cheapen those lessons by taking the easy way out, no matter how tempting.

“They might have… expanded upon your feelings for me, thus they felt natural, but your loyalty and love were inhibited by magic.” He wasn’t sure assuming her feeling was going to help, but he had little other options. Gwen didn’t look like she believed a word, but he knew it would eventually stick, that she would come to know truth. Gaius would help, surely. It looked like Lance had quite the task in front of him.

‘She’ll need you, especially now. I left her with child, and I know how terrible that was, but you can help her. It was you she always truly loved, even if it was me she was loyal to.’ Arthur had urged him before he left, a mirror of his promise to Gwen, it’s meaning clear. Protect her. He didn’t fail last time, and he wasn’t ready to fail now.

They had a few weeks of peace in hell before it would all go downhill. Peace, of course, being a relative term. Morgana stirred as much trouble as she could, still trying to outdo her brother, to be better. Without anything really to fight over, however, pettiness and pranks were abounding. Merlin wondered if this was what Gwaine was likely to do unsupervised. He came to the unfortunate answer of yes.

And yet the godling knew from his talks with Arthur that the dead king was relieved. Morgana slowly was coming around, the barriers and the hatred melting to the rivalry they had always reveled in. It was the old her, as he called it. It was the woman she could’ve been. Occasionally, she would even be civil.

Merlin trained harder with every passing day. He thought the plan was horrible, bound to fail, though he hesitated to tell father that. He wasn’t strong enough, couldn’t do it. He had been on trial enough times to know that all of this was a terrible idea. And yet, they had nothing else viable, let alone better.

Poseidon had taken up some of his training. The duel daggers faded in and out of corporeal existence, fading into pure shadow at times. That wasn’t to say they didn’t cut just as deep. It wasn’t about winning a physical battle, as had been repeated to Merlin constantly. It was to corner Zeus, force him down and to surrender. The daggers weren’t to do physical damage, but to both cut off points to his power and bring shame upon his head. If the young godling to hit his uncle more than his uncle could hit him, then Merlin would seem the more powerful one, the person to side with. If Zeus found the true source of his power, the support of the others, backing Merlin, it would mean defeat.

There was also the fact that Zeus wasn’t quite aware of Merlin’s true standing. He thought that it was simply a demigod, and he would find that there was much more of a serious threat behind the lanky and unassuming young man. That underestimation would destroy him.

Though winning was certainly possible, Merlin was nervous to even ask for a trial by combat, let alone be confident enough to win.

Yet he hadn’t much time to dwell, especially when there was a trident swinging for his head. Pain had taught him to dodge very, very early on. Yet is wasn’t really the trident that Merlin had to worry about. When he had used ‘magic’ there had always been that warm burning in his chest, like a tiny furnace filling his body. With binding gone, that furnace had turned into cold flame, no longer fighting against a barrier to be released. It didn’t chill him, but rather grounded him, kept him alert and aware. It was the cool oceanlike breeze that began to war with his flame that was the true issue. Poseidon was comfortable with himself and confident with what he could do. Merlin was not.

Eventually, the breeze became a current of energy. Merlin hit the hard stone beneath him with a shuddering thud, and mutely raised his hands in defeat. Poseidon helped him up without a word, but looked ponderous.

“You can feel you power, you need to use it. Not for defensive, because that’s a good way to lose. Attack with it from all sides, from unsuspecting sides, anything to gain an advantage. It’s there, so have it take form.” It was a lesson he had heard from his father, built upon now by his uncle. He had to strike first, take the offensive. After living in the shadows for so long, Merlin had to relearn his entire mindset, or be destroyed.

Merlin readied his weapons, body taking stance once more. This time, he refused to lose. Before Poseidon could properly adjust his grip, Merlin was already feinting at his right flank, the real target his knees. Ducking low, he thought nothing of his own defenses, but rather pressed forward fully with the power resting inside of him. It was met with deep waves of his uncle’s, but instead of retreating, it held ground, letting Merlin throw Poseidon off balance with deep cuts from his daggers. Without respite, Merlin threw began to use his abilities with fervor, striking with them in quick jabs and retreating them to fold around him like as a shield.

Out of sight, Hades watched his son, smiling. There was still hope, and it was soon time. He would answer his brother’s summons, set a date for the trial. The time for wait was over.


	16. Chapter 16

His steps echoed throughout the place, the silence maddening and unusual. Hades was used to having a unique welcoming, but that was usually jeers and murmurs, not the sheer wall of silence he encountered. No eyes met him on his way, which meant that the gods were already convened. Sighing deeply, he strode up to the central pantheon, surrounded by the towering thrones of his family.

As thought, each throne was already occupied, in a moment of disorientation, Hades felt their great presence all around him, swirling around in contempt, the pure hatred radiating off one brother. They overshadowed him, felt like a great earthquake threatening to bring him to his knees, but he would not bow here.

“Brother.” He choked out. His focused his attention on Zeus, the true enemy, but his other brother’s eyes were glued on Hades himself, and knowing of Poseidon’ support strengthened the god of the underworld. He wasn’t coddled here. He was stronger than them all.

“You finally decide to come. I wasn’t sure if you’d wait for a second summon.”

“I’m sure that’d be unwise.” Hades had to play into the pretense of a more submissive brother, even if it caused his skin to crawl.

“Indeed. So, this son of yours stirred up some trouble.”

“He did, but I don’t see how that’s business of yours. What do you care what he does to mortals?”

“Ah, but he harmed a demigod!” Zeus sat forward in his throne, sparks flying and the strong smell of ozone wafting about. He pointed his finger at Hades, then up, nodding his head at the assembled gods as if this was anything but a façade. Hades rolled his eye.

“So have countless others. Hell, your own children have caused more destruction and death than all others combined!”

“Any child of yours is sure to rack up a death count, Hades.”

“Oh? That’s just more work for me, and him too because there would be no way I’d clean up his messes.”

“Enough!” Zeus’ roar echoed through the pantheon, lightning striking in the distance and a storm no doubt starting. “Your son will be on trial, and no amount of argument will change that.”

“You follow this pathetic excuse for a king?” Hades shouted, directing it to the assembly for the first time. He turned, the bright gold of all the decorations seeming to fade to dull bronze as his presence grew to overshadow them all. He was, to say the least, pissed. “Merlin will have his trial, but if any of you even dare to pretend it’s just, you lie to yourselves and don’t deserve to be the overseers of democracy!”

“He will be here in two days, Hades, at noon.” His brother spat out each word like poison.

“So be it.” He left, black cloak billowing as he descended back to hell.

“Two days!?” Merlin couldn’t believe what he just heard. “I just barely managed to beat Poseidon the other day, how am I to defeat Zeus?”

“You have the element of surprise, and while we’ll let you fight alone at first, I’d rather join in and lose some support if it means gaining any. Remember, even a few gods on our side is more than we have now.”

“I understand father, but there has to be another way?” Merlin was furiously rubbing his face, fists clenching and foot tapping. Nervous wasn’t a strong enough word for the new adrenaline burning through his body.

“Kick his ass, Merlin.” Arthur interjected. “Take him down a few notches. It’s what you’re good at, after all.”

Merlin gave a weak grin to his friend, but it was a smile nonetheless. Hades knew if Merlin would just relax some, he could outwit and overpower Zeus. He was a bully, just as much as Arthur was those many years ago. Yes, it was a bully with the power of lightening and the backing of almost every god, but Arthur had been a prince backed by knights when Merlin fearlessly insulted him.

He just had to find that same confidence, and this time he wasn’t alone.

Persephone was beginning to regret her decisions. Watching Hades practically spit at Zeus in disgust had her stomach turning. There was something more afoot, and she knew it wasn’t in her favor. He loved his son more than her, and she had interfered with that. Persephone wasn’t heartless, far from it, but she was spoiled and dotted upon. Destruction meant little to her, but having seen the wrath that the two brothers could impart, she wondered if it would’ve been better not to pit them against each other.

She might find that an apology was due, but she wasn’t sure if she should wait and see how it would play out. Zeus was too powerful, and her beloved would surely lose, but she could be there to back him up, even if she had caused the conflict in the first place. Yes, then he would love her for sure.

Athena had found the entire interaction curious. She twirled her silver hair, gray eyes wandering and betraying how lost in thought she was. She was not her father's favorite child, but he did not hesitate to approach her with simple concern.

"I'm alright, just thinking." She spoke before he could voice any worry.

"That's what I'm worried about." And perhaps it was right for him to be concerned. There was little his daughter did not pick up on, and Poseidon's demeanor during Hades appearance was tense, but not how she expected it to be. She might hate the god of the sea, but it did little to diminish her curiosity, and so while they all awaited the trial, she decided to confront him.

"You're not yourself." Athena was many things, but she preferred blunt when eloquence was unneeded.

"I thought that'd be a good thing in your eyes." Poseidon was trying to avoid the conversation, body language leaning away and words purposefully vague. This did not please her, though nor did it surprise her.

"You support Hades, do you not?" He flinched, and she had him. "I would ask why, but I'm assuming you two are planning something."

"Athena." He seemed speechless, but she could feel the disturbance, and he was preparing for a fight. She felt like scoffing.

"I'm curious, nothing more."

"Curiosity killed the cat." Mortals had come up with so many interesting idioms, but that was one she hated.

"And the satisfaction brought it back."

"Then I suppose you'll be a dead cat."

"Or perhaps you'll find yourself in a great deal amount of trouble."

"What do you want?" Signs of defeat stretched across his features. She always won against him, a fact she was greatly pleased with. She smiled bright and true, the very smile that had enticed him at first.

"I want to be in on it."

Morgana's life, or death rather, was not as terrible as she thought. She expected to burn in the pits for what she did, the murder and treason and hatred. She had forgotten what her brother was truly like, masking it behind assumptions, fear, and desperation to see the evil in him. Yet, he welcomed her with open arms almost immediately.

When he hugged her for the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt tears welling. She couldn't return the affection, not so soon after everything, but Morgana had never given Arthur the chance to accept her. She didn't know what to do with herself, having done so much evil yet forgiven without any retribution. Merlin took no revenge on her, nor did her brother.

Watching Merlin struggle and train, she could see the weariness etched in his features. They all felt too old, stretched too thin. Sometimes, just out of sight, she could see the faces of the innocents she had killed. It was beginning to cause a great fear and regret to well up inside her, and after a long debate, she dared to ask Merlin about it.

"The dead are all here, present in some way. It wouldn't surprise me if a couple got curious at your presence. Talk to them."

She couldn't, not quite yet. But there was one she knew she had to confront, that she had to hear truth from. Merlin was appalled by her request at first, but in understanding had Hades help him find the person Morgana never thought she'd want to see again.

"Please don't tell Arthur of this." It was softly spoken, a whispered request.

"Of course." Merlin vowed. Morgana's progress had been miraculous, and he wouldn't dare disrupt what she needed to do to heal. Sometimes an old wound has to be reopened to rid of the infection. Sometimes a bone has to be broken again to finally set it right.

They found him lost and weary, alone in a desolate corner of hell. Head bowed low, he no longer held a presence to demand the fear or respect he once did. He had been broken while he was still alive, but now there was little left but a shell.

"Hello, Uther."

His head barely rose, but his eyes sparked with a glimmer of recognition. Morgana waited; she would not speak again until he addressed her. She wasn't here to rant, to yell, to get into a familiar argument. She was here to heal, and she needed him awake and aware for it.

After a while, he seemed to realize she wouldn't say anything more. Uther was a broken man, but he still had been a king, and with trembling legs, he stood. As his back straightened and his eyes hardened, he transformed into the figure of her nightmares, the haunting silhouette that followed her fears. It was a sight to behold, even if it was only a facade.

"Morgana." His voice was deep, warped and scratchy from disuse. "It appears you are dead."

She noted that he didn't sound pleased by that fact.

"Yes father, I am. Betrayed by one close to me, as you understand I'm sure." His perpetual frown only deepened as a self loathing smirk adorned her face. "And I've come to talk to you about that. I don't know if I regret not speaking to you about my magic, when it was forming. Would you have accepted me, or attempted to 'cure' me?"

"Does it matter?" The question shook him. His eyes locked onto hers, almost pleading, though he never let his stance drop.

"I suppose not, in the end, but it does to me right now."

"You're my daughter." It was the only amswer she needed to hear. Stepping forward, she did something she had not done since she was a child.

Uther didn't expect the hug, and as soon as her arms encircled him the mask fell and he rested his head upon hers.

"You were- are family." And for the first time in her life she felt like Arthur's equal. There were so many questions she yet had, and she spent a great deal amount of time over the following week speaking with her father and learning the truth.

Merlin's cousin was not at all what he was expecting. She had sauntered into the throne room, uninvited and unexpected. Sparkling hair curled around a thin golden chain, heels clicking with every step, even and measured and absolutely precise. When he met her eyes, they were sharper than any blade. Merlin could guess quite easily who she was.

"Athena?" He asked, praying he was right, and yet dreading that he was. She was Zeus' daughter, afterall.

"Well it's good to see you have some brain at least."

Hades was between them in a second, cloak billowing, as lack as his anger.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wanted in on whatever you and Poseidon were cooking up, and I got more than I bargained for. I think you're crazy for trying this, but it's a crazy thought out well enough that I can respect it. You have my loyalty and help, as long as we keep things interesting." She had a noble and deadly nature to her, but Hades didn't falter or relax. She was not an ally he expected. "Is this your son? He's adorable!"

The speed at which she could change moods...

"Yes, he is-" She had already stepped around him to stand next to Merlin.

"Merlin, right? You have quite a task in front of you, and while I'm sure your father and uncle have been teaching you how to throw power at a wall, I'm going to teach you strategy. If you're going to win the family over, you need to think in and off the battlefield, and you need to know your enemies."

She smiled, wide and wry at the same time.

"If you listen to me, we just might come out alright."


	17. Chapter 17

Word finally got around to Gaius just what was going on. It seemed as soon as Merlin and Arthur had died, nothing short of chaos had ensued. It took Lancelot coming back a second time for the older man to finally demand some sort of explanation from the queen herself, if just to get a straight answer. He knew the gods were involved, but there had to be more to it. There had to be a reason.

“Oh Gaius, I thought you knew. You were always so close to Merlin.” She had come to his chambers at his request, his old knees not able to make the journey as well anymore. Lancelot had come as well, a fact that Gaius was secretly pleased about. If it was an imposter again, he’d know.

“I assume my boy is causing as much trouble in death as he did in life. Arthur too if I remember correctly. The gods interfering never bodes well.” It was painful to say, but he could do little else. Merlin’s death had hit Gaius hard, aging him by a decade. The young warlock had brought life with him everywhere, and his absence was almost unbearable. The lines in the elder man’s face had deepened, and his eyes had lost a great deal of shine. A sickly depression hung in the air, and as soon as she had seen the state the older man was in Gwen had felt terrible for not involving him more. Merlin had been close to all of them, but he was a son to Gaius.

“Of course. It’s Merlin, after all, and when does trouble fail to find him.” It was Lancelot who spoke up. “Trouble, and surprises. Apparently Balinor wasn’t his father.”

“Of course he was, Hunith-” The door had opened again, the cool air rushing into the chambers.

She had trekked far to get to Camelot, knowing that her son finally had learned the truth. What was happening lately in Camelot could only be explained by Hades’ interference, and she knew some people deserved some explanations. Hunith stood, wet from rain and weary from travel, in the small workshop.

“Hello Gaius. It’s been some time.”

Gaius had stood to greet his queen, but he rushed to greet his sister with an embrace. She had come, knowing that her time now was soon up, and that she would expected to return soon. It was time to give her brother the closure he needed.

“Hunith, my dear, what has happened.”

“Gaius, I told you once in letter, again in person, just how special my Merlin was, but it was truer than you know.”

“He was Emrys.” He shot a glance to the queen, but the name brought no resemblance, only a look of confusion.

“Oh brother, he was far more important than that. All those years ago, when I first had my son, Gaius do you remember my letter?” The old man gave a confused nod. The contents of the letter had been vague, but by no means worrisome. Of course, Hunith would never state how truly desperate she was, not when she had known the struggles her brother went through. “Gaius, I went to steal bread from a local lord that week, in hopes of feeding myself and my son.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with Merlin.”

“The lord had caught me, and when I fled the archers shot me down and my son starved. I died that day, as did he.” And so began the long tale of how a poor woman came to call a god her son.

By the time Athena had spent an hour with him, Merlin's head was swimming. He had already known quite a few gods from the stories, despite Hunith's quite justified hesitation to tell them, but separating the stories from the very different truth was hard. Mortals barely touched the surface of the drama, and most of what they had were lies.

"Leto might not have much influence, but the thought of Hades whisking you away and hiding you from an angry god will have her on our side in an instant. Hera would, of course, also join in considering that she values family above all else, but her hatred of Leto might dissuade her. Get on Leto's bad side however, and Hera might just like you. Artemis and Apollo will be tricky..." Athena continued to plan, but Merlin was lost half way through.

"Doesn't Apollo rule over prophecy and medicine?" Merlin was trying desperately to keep the gods clear in his mind.

"Yes. But Leto is his mother, and while Hera is more important than her, Hera won't betray Zeus so easily-"

"I can win over Apollo fairly easily, I'm sure."

"Oh?" Athena knew this already, but she thought it was cute when others thought they were clever. It might be arrogance, but she reveled in her intelligence. Her family made poor and pathetic choices, and she was determined to set herself apart from that.

"Half my life was dedicated to fulfilling a prophecy, and the other half was spent as a physician's assistant. He'd respect that, right?"

"He might see it as an insult if you put it like that, but we could weave that knowledge in. Mention destiny and prophecy before you demand a trial by combat, it might catch his attention."

The entire evening was spent in much similar fashion. He had to speak a certain way and fight a certain way to please the important gods. Not to mention win against the strongest, there was that as well. How anyone thought he could do that was beyond him, but there was much more at stake here. If he lost, it wouldn’t just be his destruction or eternal pain, it would be his father’s and allies’ as well. Arthur, too, would probably suffer. Though he knew he was free of destiny, the thought of Arthur getting hurt because of his failures was enough to fill Merlin with righteous determination. He couldn’t afford to lose.

Seeing the confidence in his father’s eyes made the young god smile, however. He’d never had the chance before to make someone proud like this. Gaius was a father figure to him, no one would argue that, but there was always a measure of secrecy and hesitance between them. There was none of that between Hades and his son. If something horrible happened, they’d both be in the thick of it.

Athena had been a surprising addition to their little coup, but Merlin found that he enjoyed the time spent with his cousin. She was lightning quick with her sarcasm, and he had to fight to keep up with her. It was a comfortable rhythm though, like talking with Arthur almost. He always lost those verbal battles, he never expected anything less, but sometimes he thought that perhaps she might enjoy talking to him as well.

It took the rest of the day to go through their plan of verbal and subtle attack, all the while Hades and Poseidon trained with each other, listless and ready for the fight to come.  Watching everyone around him prepare, Arthur felt the most useless of all. What could he even think to do against the divine?

He had no special powers or edge against any of the gods. Never in his life – or death, had he felt so useless. It was in that mood that Morgana found him.

“Come now, brother. I thought your ever-present optimism and gross confidence would be shining through now, of all times.” But of course, his sister had never seen him in his true times of conflict, when only Merlin was there to pick him up and set him on track.

“I think you have me confused with another. Dark hair, son of Hades, does it sound familiar?” He met her eyes, sitting on the steps of the courtyard. Merlin was still inside, and the two brothers sparred endlessly just near the far edges of the walls.

“Unfortunately, it does. But he’s not so confident right now, nor cheerful.” And that was true. Looking at his friend, Arthur could see the strain the world was placing on him. How did they expect to win this? Morgana joined him, smoothing her skirts down to sit next to her brother. It sparked memories of times long gone, where doing what was right and damning the consequences was feasible, and their greatest enemy was their father.

“That was always his job, though. Whenever hope was lost, when the battle was against us or it seemed like we would fall, Merlin always was there to reassure. Miracles happened around that man, and it felt like with him by my side, nothing bad would happen. But now it’s his turn to face his enemies, and I’m powerless to help.”

“How do you expect him to be confident when the man most important to him keeps looking at him like he’s already failed? Knock yourself out of this woe-is-me bullshit. Merlin needs his best friend now more than ever, and if you’re finally ready to admit that he’s important to you, you better damn well start acting like it. You can’t just take, Arthur, sometimes you have to give. You commanded him to kick some ass, now tell him that he can has the power to do it.”

“When did everyone get so wise?”

But Morgana had already went back inside. She was right, though. They weren’t powerless here. True, they couldn’t fight, but not all battles were against someone else. The hardest battles were against yourself, and Merlin needed him.

Less than a few hours left before the trial, tensions were high. Athena had returned, spinning her web of words in the court, weaving ideas into the lesser minds of her relatives. Poseidon, too, had returned to his home. Hades had taken Merlin aside that evening, to simple hold him close.

“If you lose, we lose together. As it should’ve been in the beginning. I tried my hardest to protect you, and I won’t go down without a good fight. None of us will. You’re important Merlin, and we can do this. Rest up, and we’ll go into this refreshed and prepared.”

Arthur had spent the day with Merlin, silently realizing it could be the last time he did. He spoke nothing of that to his friend, however.

“Honestly Merlin, you’ll be fine. You’ve gotten out of everything with barely a scratch, and I doubt that luck will leave you now.”

“That wasn’t luck, it was magic.”

“No, magic is what you did to fight things. Luck is the fact you were able to not trip while doing it.”

“Can I have that hug now?”

“No.” But Arthur grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug anyway. “Come back to me Merlin.”

“I will.” How could he disobey the order of his king?

Hades interrupted them, walking forward with a clenched jaw and a sad smile forming.

“Are you ready son?”

“Yes, I think I am.” Merlin adorned the cloak his father gave him, and bid farewell to Arthur, before leaving for Olympus.


End file.
